Finding Mortality
by jessa-beth
Summary: Post AWE An innocent farm girl from Cuba is on the run, and with one rash decision she finds herself suddenly tangled up in the seductively lawless life of Captain Jack Sparrow as he begins his hunt for the Fountain of Youth. M JackOC. Prob not finishing.
1. Escape

**A/N:** Hey there!! This is my FIRST EVER PotC FANFICTION!! AAH!! It begins about two days after At World's End, and I've got a fuzzy outline written down, but the ending's still rather vague, and I'm afraid that without any support, I'm gonna get too scared to finish this, so I'd REALLY appreciate some reviews to help encourage me!! I reeeally don't want to drop this story, but I will if nobody likes it. Either that, or I'll just work on it by myself, and never post it. XD lol.

So here's chapter one. Yes, you will find out more about Carlotta, and no, she won't (at least I HOPE she won't) turn out to be a Mary Sue. If she does, I might cry, but I think sometimes OCs just inevitably turn out that way anyway, so I'll get over it if she does. Bah.

And yes, I know my title sucks. I'm awful at thinking up titles. Trust me. Me and naming stories is just a whole world of badness.

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The night air smelled of rum and sex. The atmosphere was ringing with the sounds of drunken shouts and laughter. She felt like she would surely suffocate here. She had always avoided this part of town, but in her situation, there was simply no where else to run. Whores all around her were flipping their skirts and flashing their teasing grins at passersby, while men of every shape and size took full advantage of these women's hospitable offerings. They all smelled like alcohol, and the scents of sweat and lust hung about them, too. She dodged every man and whore in her path, breathing heavily as she ran through clouds of grime and smoke. She could feel dirty water splashing up her calves with every step she took. She knew her dress was staining, even though she was holding it up from the vile ground beneath her, but she didn't care. All she could think about was escaping this place.

She glanced behind her. Was he still following her? She scanned the crowds, but could not see his face. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, clutching her heaving chest. Her thighs were burning. She had worked them too hard. She had labored well on the farm back home, but she had never run this much before.

Looking ahead, still panting, she saw she was close to the docks. There was really no where left to go, if he was still following her. Perhaps she could escape on an unused boat, if there was one, she thought. But there was no time for that at the moment, for a familiar voice was suddenly shouting her name behind her.

Her blood ran cold with anxiety. Panicking, she flung herself to the left of the street, not even bothering to check if he had seen her. She would hide; that was her only hope, at the moment. She pressed herself between two drunkards chatting in the nearest doorway, and let herself into the place. The stench of rum overwhelmed her nostrils, and she wrinkled her nose as she glanced around. Fast-paced music had people dancing wildly all across the musty floor, and everywhere she turned, men and women had bottles to their mouths. She had entered a tavern. Of course, with her recent luck, that should hardly have been any surprise to her. She turned back to the still-open door, and glanced out at the crowded streets beyond the drunkards still standing just outside. She saw him. His face was beet-red, and his eyes were slits of fury as he looked all around for her. She watched him give an angry roar, and march desperately into the bar just across from the tavern she was currently hiding in. Knowing him, he was bound to check every single one of the surrounding shops for her.

Whimpering in terror, she scrambled backward, immersing herself more deeply in the crowd of drunks. As she went, she elbowed some poor wench in the face, who shrieked angrily and starting gibbering at her in Spanish. "Lo siento," she muttered to the woman unconcernedly, and finally tore her eyes from the door so she could see where she was headed in the tavern. The closest thing she saw that she could duck behind was a table. Only one man occupied it, but he was surrounded by a whole flock of desperate wenches who were all clustered around him as though he were their reason for being. She ignored the little group, got down on her hands and knees, and crawled behind the man's chair. She impressively managed to avoid being trampled by the collective of wenches, and hugged her knees, just waiting for the dreaded moment when he would burst in, screaming her name, searching for her.

But even in all her terror, she could not tear her eyes away from the man in the chair before her. She could not see his face, but it was simply fascinating to watch the way his hands roamed the bare chest of the woman straddled over his lap, and to see how her eyelids fluttered excitedly and her mouth opened wide in a delighted, moaning laugh. The woman was moving suggestively, and when she suddenly stopped and whispered something in his ear, he sniggered.

A bottle smashed somewhere to her right, and she jumped. One of the man's wenches laughed at her, but she ignored her. Taverns weren't the place for her. She gulped. Was he going to find her soon? Was he in here already?

She was shaking, but once again she found herself distracted by the sounds coming from the man at the table. He was groaning ecstatically. A wench at his side had gotten to her knees, and her head was buried in the man's lap. Her hand was playing with the ends of his long dreadlocks, which were spilling out from beneath an old, red bandana. The man was squirming delightedly in his seat.

The cowering young woman understood what was taking place, and she looked quickly away, her cheeks faintly pink. She had never seen people be so public about that sort of thing, but perhaps that was attributed to the fact that she'd been confined to the farm for her entire life.

"Carlotta!" someone yelled furiously. She heard a chair being toppled over, and angry footsteps. "Carlotta, where are you, girl?"

She let out a horrified yelp before coming to her senses and clamping her hand over her mouth. She was shaking madly as she curled herself into a tighter ball, biting down on the fabric of her dress to keep herself from making noise. Would he recognize her terrified whimpers? Her heart was hammering in her chest, surely bruising her insides. He was going to find her, and kill her, she thought wildly. She listened carefully for his presence. He was easily audible, even over all the other deafening sounds of the tavern.

"Where are you, Carlotta?" he was raging. "I'll find you, you filthy wench! There's no escapin' me!"

The man on the chair in front of her turned his head slightly to glance at her. She could see only his sharp profile, but she could tell that he was looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She glared at him. His eyebrows were raised, and she thought he had a smirk on his face, but there was a lamp in the distance whose light was twinkling just behind the man's head, so his face was cast in shadow. He was nothing but a silhouette to her. She knew, though, that he was putting two and two together in his head, and realizing that she was on the run. She prayed silently that he would keep his mouth shut.

"Carlotta!" The voice was very close, now. She crawled a bit closer to the man's chair, ensuring she could not be seen. She glanced past the wenches' legs and watched with horror as a familiar pair of boots approached the table. She drew herself in closer, and let the dark curls that had escaped her messy bun fall in front of her face as though that would protect her further. Clenching her dark eyes shut, she tried hard not to burst into tears of fright. "Have you seen my…?" he asked the man before her. She held her breath. _Please_, she begged internally, _say nothing_.

"Have I seen this Carlotta person you've been so pointlessly shouting for?" the man finished for her pursuer in a cocky drawl. "I have certainly not seen any woman 'round this dingy hole so deserving of your annoying yet admirable persistence, and I assure you, my good man, I have seen a good lot of women here. So I'd suggest you just sod off, and stop bloody shoutin' so much. You'll give a man a headache."

She opened her eyes again. The boots were leaving, but he was still calling her name. Eventually, she heard him give a cry of frustration, and storm from the place. She continued to sit, huddled, for a few minutes, before pushing herself shakily to her feet. She glanced anxiously around, just to make sure he was really gone. When she didn't see him anywhere amongst the sea of drunken faces, she sighed in relief. She made to leave, but as she passed the man with his wenches, she paused. She turned to look at him.

She was surprised to find that he was rather handsome. He gazed back at her, his dark eyes swimming with amusement and pleasure. The back of one of the women's heads could be seen bobbing in and out of sight beneath the tabletop before the man. She blushed slightly as she noticed this, but cleared her throat and continued to stare at him anyway. "Thank you, sir," she told him politely.

The corners of his lips twitched. "It was nothing, love," he replied, his voice low and suave. She nodded once, and turned to go, but he spoke again. "Next time, though, I'd suggest simply staying out of trouble." Irritation throbbed in her veins.

"I shall," she told him with false politeness. "Thank you." And at that, she left. That man had no idea what she'd been through. How dare a stranger tell her to 'stay out of trouble,' when he had no idea what was going on?

Carlotta pushed her way through the crowds again, still keeping a wary eye open for any sight of the man seeking her. He was nowhere to be seen, thankfully, and she could barely express her relief at this. She wanted so badly to get out of this place now, it felt like an illness eating away at her insides. Her skin was itching with the desire to escape it permanently. She forced herself to the docks. She could smell the seawater, and taste the salty air. She had never known much about boats, she mused as she stared at the line of heavily guarded ships tied there at the dock, but she supposed she'd need one to get out of Santiago.

She scanned the nighttime water. It looked dark and haunting. She didn't know what might await her if she were to set sail upon that swaying surface, or if it was even the right choice, but she had to try. She looked around desperately for something to help her with her escape, and finally spotted it.

A little out of the way from all the chaos of the port, a tiny boat was tied to a post. No one seemed to be paying it any mind. Its sails were stained and torn, and its down-trodden wood panels seemed to be rotting. Although its shaggy appearance made her nervous, another long look back at the raucous town behind her fed her determination. This was the only boat that would be easy enough to steal on her own, and therefore it was her only hope of escape. Glancing around the docks quickly to make sure no one was watching her, she lifted the skirt of her dress and stepped cautiously into the rickety boat. It rocked precariously under her weight, and she bit her lip. She was already starting to rethink this whole thing. She knew nothing about steering a boat. She didn't even have a compass or a map, let alone a heading. Still, she was doing what she had to. She had to get away, and this was her only chance. He would still be looking for her, surely. He would probably search all of Cuba before he could be sure she was nowhere to be found.

She sat, and her new boat began to wade a little further out into the water. She stretched over the edge to grasp wildly for the dock to drag it back, and squealed with distaste when her hand became covered with grime. She wiped it hurriedly on her dress before reaching back up and starting to untie the rope that bound her escape vessel there.

The boards of the dock shook slightly with approaching footsteps, but for a minute, she didn't realize what it meant. As a pair of grey, faded boots came into view, however, she froze. They weren't those of her folly, but unrecognizable ones. She stared at them. They were facing her. She was stealing someone's boat, and he had clearly just returned for it. She blinked at the worn leather of this man's shoes, unsure of what to do. For several moments, he stood above her in silence, while she continued to stare at his feet. At long last, he spoke.

"What the bloody hell d'you think you're doin' on my boat?" The voice was strangely familiar to her. She looked up. It was the man from the tavern. She recognized his red bandana. He swayed where he stood, staring menacingly down at her. One of his filthy hands was resting on the pistol at his belt, while the other had its heavily ringed fingers clasped around the necks of several full bottles of rum. She could still not see his face properly.

"Er…" she stuttered. What was she to say? Should she tell him the truth? He had already seen that she was on the run—and helped her, too—so what harm could be done in telling him? "I'm running, sir," she said. Her face flushed, ashamed to say it aloud. It made her sound so cowardly.

He grinned casually at her. "A concept I happen to be quite familiar with, love," he said, leaning forward slightly as he spoke. "But that does not excuse the fact that you're in _my_ boat."

"Well, yours was the smallest," she said defensively, getting unsteadily to her feet again. "And it was the easiest to get away with." She placed her hands on her hips. She tried to look imposing, but as she barely reached his waist, she wasn't succeeding too well.

The man's offended expression was quite sardonic. He made a sound of indignation, and placed his rum lovingly upon the ground at his feet. "It is _not_ that small," he said loudly once he'd straightened up again, his voice full of contempt.

"It is so!" she said, realizing she'd hit some sort of nerve. "Look at all these other ships around here!" She smiled amusedly at his expression. "Now, see here, sir: I really need your boat, so…"

"I need it more!" he grumbled resentfully, throwing his hands into the air wildly as he leapt down into the boat with her. It teetered dangerously, and a large amount of water sloshed over the edge, soaking both of their ankles. "It's _my_ boat," he said plainly, leaning very close to her, "so get out!" He pointed at the dock. She blinked at him, wrinkling her nose. He smelled very heavily of rum. It did not sit well with her.

"I _need _this, sir," she said, trying to stay calm. "I have to get away."

He scoffed at her. "Well _I_ need it, too!" he growled. "My ship was stolen."

Carlotta raised her eyebrows questioningly and leaned away from the drunken man to look him up and down. He seemed barely stable on his feet, and hardly capable to captain a ship. "_You_ had a ship?" she questioned, sounding uncertain.

"I did," he muttered furiously to himself. "I mean, I _do_," he corrected, poking her shoulder as though to prove his point. "I _do_ have a ship, and it is the most magnificent vessel in the entire Spanish Main, I swear to you."

She snorted. "Of course it is," she said, humoring him.

The man looked contemptuously at her, his brow low. "Do you even know who I am, love?" he asked her with a glare.

"Of course not," she told him. "Why should I? All I know about you, sir, is that you… well, you saved my life back in that tavern."

He seemed confused. "Oh, that was you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, that was me," she confirmed irritably, glancing down at her feet in embarrassment.

"And, er…who was it that you were running from, eh, love?" He didn't sound very concerned.

"Just… someone, alright?" she told him evasively. "He was just… someone who wants me dead."

"Is that so?" he responded dully. His words were punctuated by the swish of a blade being extracted from its sheath. She looked up, horrified, seriously regretting her decision to ever look away from him. The point of his sword was directed ominously at her throat. She gazed fearfully at it. "I am… terribly unhappy to have to do it this way, darlin'," he told her, a mockingly tragic look in his eye, "but I really do need to get back to _the Pearl_, and I can't exactly do that without a boat, now, can I? You're costing me precious time, and as much as I hate to turn away an attractive damsel in distress…" His eyes scanned her body once over, and her stomach gave an odd jolt. "…I really do need this boat." She watched his hand nervously as it clutched his sword. What chance did she have against him? She had no weapon. She gulped nervously.

His arm shifted slightly, his sleeve fell back on his arm, and she saw something that made her mouth drop open. There was a small burn on the back of his wrist, she noticed—a P branded into his skin. He was a pirate, and he had come in contact with the East India Trading Company. "You're… a pirate," she stated simply, her eyes widening. She glanced back up at him. His expression was dangerous. There were deep shadows on his face in the darkness, and it made him appear slightly eerie when he looked so serious. She shivered.

His lip curled. "That's a fascinating observation, love," he said uninterestedly, "but I really have to be getting back to my ship now, so…"

"Look," she interrupted him desperately. "I want to get out of here, and you want to go get your ship. I have no idea how to even steer this thing, nor do I have any type of destination, so I'd be helpless anyway."

"Is this you accepting defeat?" the man asked hopefully.

"No," she snapped. "This is me asking if I can just… come along with you."

He tilted away from her as though he'd never seen anything like her. "You must really be desperate to get away," he stated bluntly.

"I am, sir," she admitted.

The man stared at her. She stared back. His eyes were very dark, but they seemed to glisten in the small amount of starlight that there was. After a while, he said, "First off, darling, don't call me sir. It's Captain, thanks." He sniffed in annoyance. "Secondly…" He hesitated. "…I'm starting to have a thought." He wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes at her, obviously cogitating something. They continued to stare at each other until he finally cleared his throat, and went on. "I've had no other opportunities to switch boats, y'see," he told her calmly, "because I only had me ship stolen a mere two days ago, but now that I'm thinking about it…" He looked away from her at last, staring hungrily at the ships decked at the port. "Here's my chance at last, and…" He looked back at her. "… Well, it's really quite difficult to commandeer a ship all by me onesome, love." He stared pointedly into her eyes, but she merely blinked.

"What are you saying, sir?" she asked slowly, feeling fairly certain that he was suggesting an act of piracy.

He rolled his eyes. "Help me commandeer a ship," he rumbled. "That way we both get what we want. I get an easier way to get the _Pearl _back, as well as some pleasant company, and you get to do your running away act."

She laughed hollowly. "And why would I help you do that?" she inquired. "I'm not a pirate like you are."

"But you're on the run, aren't you darlin'? And didn't you just describe yourself as desperate?" He grinned wickedly, his eyes dancing mischievously. "Sometimes desperation simply requires piracy, you know." He watched her closely as she thought for a moment.

"How about _you_ go steal a ship, and I'll just take this boat?" she asked, smiling innocently.

His grin dropped. "You are too ruddy stubborn," he spat. "You have no heading, but I do, and I can't commandeer a ship that heavily guarded all by me self, so…" He lowered his sword at last, and she let out a relieved sigh. "What do you say?"

She chewed absentmindedly on her lower lip for a while, just thinking. "I could never steal a ship," she said resentfully. "I just couldn't."

"It won't _be_ stealing," he assured her quickly. He hesitated for a moment as he slid his sword back into the sheath at his belt. "_Borrowing_," he said finally, gesturing fluidly with his hands at the line of ships. "Borrowing, only… _not_ stealing. We can return it once I've got the _Pearl_ back, savvy?" He was grinning madly, desperation evident in his hopeful eyes. "Come on," he pleaded. "What's there for you to lose, eh?"

Carlotta stared at him. He had already saved her life once, and he was right, after all: she had nothing more that she could lose. She had already lost her home and her family, and compared to that, what did it really matter if she lost her dignity, too, by committing piracy? She observed his face for another moment. Aside from looking desperate, he was very handsome. He smelled like an unwashed cow, true enough, but he was certainly pleasant looking. His long mane of dark, tangled hair was decorated with trinkets and beads, and the two braids that his beard had been made into only added to his eccentric appearance.

With an uncertain smile, she shrugged in defeat. "Why not?" she sighed.

"Excellent, love, excellent!" he roared gleefully, hopping from the boat and offering her a hand to help her out, too She took it warily, and found that though his skin was rough against hers, his palm was quite warm. She gazed up at him as he helped her back onto the dock, and then stooped to retrieve his rum again. She felt so strange to be agreeing to work with this man. She still didn't even know his name. All she knew about him was that he was a pirate, but he had already saved her life once, without even meaning to. He swung his arm out, showing her towards the line of guarded ships. "Shall we?" he suggested, bowing mockingly to her before heading off.

She followed him, still uncertain that it was the right thing to do. But as he'd said: she was desperate, and sometimes desperation simply requires piracy.

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**A/N:** Thanks so much for reading!! Take a moment to review, and make me happy!!


	2. Too Much To Learn

**A/N:** WOOHOO!! Four reviews was all I needed!! Thanks so much, you lot!!

Okay, so I didn't include the commandeering of the ship, but do excuse that. I'm not much of an adventure writer, and I certainly don't have the maneuvering skills to think up a proper way of doing it. So please do forgive that. The most action-like thing I've ever written involved wands, and even THAT wasn't very good, because it circled around the romance. Ah, Harry Potter. How I love it. But ANYWAY... this is NOT HP, this is PotC!! Yay!!

Soooooo... I hope y'all don't really seriously hate Carlotta. I kinda like her. If she's got any particular MAJOR flaw, it's that she's a bit too compliant, and overly submissive. She's also extremely inquisitive, which does help her stay sane, I think. The fact is that all the fanfics I've read have so far involved women who are stronger than most, and they somehow find themselves about the _Black Pearl_, and win Jack's heart with their amazing strong wills and witty refusals to his lechery. I couldn't help wonder about what would happen, then, if a very ORDINARY girl, timid as most girls were back then, ended up on the _Pearl_. How might the experience eventually change her, or would it change her at all? Hence, Carlotta was born. Whoopie.

ENJOY THE CHAPTER, MY SWEETS!

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Carlotta's hands were shaking. She had never done anything so lawless in her entire life. Her fingers clasped the wooden railing tightly as though she was afraid she'd collapse without its support. She gazed at her hometown as it shrank into the distance. Her insides felt on fire, torn between conflicting emotions. One half of her was sad to be leaving Santiago, and maddeningly uncertain about her now extremely vague future. Her other half could not have been gladder to be rid of the damned place. 

She sighed, staring at the mess the pirate had caused back on the docks. Most of the guardsmen were unconscious, and several of them were struggling in the water. One of the other ships that had been tied there was now sinking. Watching this, Carlotta shook her head, and drummed her fingers on the rail. "I can't believe what you've talked me into, sir," she said, her voice sounding choked. She swallowed. The pirate had taken his position at the helm. He glared at her, though she did not see this, as she pined after the ruined port behind them.

She turned around to face him. After watching him steer in silence for a few minutes, she finally asked, "What's your name, if I may ask it, sir?"

He looked at her curiously, his brow furrowed. "You really don't know who I am?" he questioned, sounding skeptical.

She shrugged. "Sorry, sir, but no." How on earth was she supposed to know who he was already? She'd only just met him.

The pirate swayed on the heels of his feet, staring at her in annoyance. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he told her. "It's a wonder you've never heard of me, pet. _Everyone's_ heard of me."

Carlotta shrugged again. "Not I," she admitted with a sigh. She crossed her arms, leaning back against the deck's railing. She was still shaken from her assist in the thievery of this ship, but she was calming down a bit now, and now she was sinking back into her disturbed and worried thoughts. She supposed she'd never heard of Captain Sparrow because of her extremely confined life back at the farm. Her expression grew hard as she thought of the land she'd left. _It was the right thing_, she told herself firmly. _That just wasn't a good life for me_._ I had to get away_.

"What was your name again, lass?" Captain Sparrow called to her, not looking up from his compass. She glanced back up at him. He was rocking back and forth where he stood. "Carla, was it?" he tried.

She shook her head. "It's Carlotta," she told him. "Carlotta Castillo."

"Ah. Well, Carla…may I call you Carla?" He did not wait for an answer, though she had opened her mouth to tell him no. "…Well, Carla, it'd be polite of me to ask you why you were running, but I have a feeling that would be pointless on two accounts," he said, ignoring her. His lips twitched in a handsome smirk that showed off several gold teeth. "In the first place, I'm sure you'd just evade the question, and I wouldn't get a straight answer. That's what all us cowards do, after all." He sniggered. "Second of all, I really don't actually _care_ why you were running, and it would be quite rude of me to ask a question and not care about the answer, now, wouldn't it?"

Her face flushed. "Er," she stuttered. "Sure. If you say so."

"Right, then," he said with a tone of finality, turning his gaze back to the dark horizon, "I'll leave you to your thoughts, and you just leave me to my bitter pursuit of me ship, savvy?"

She nodded in agreement, but did not leave him, and instead stood in compliant silence for a few seconds before her curiosity got the better of her. "So why do you care so much about this ship you're after?" she asked.

Captain Sparrow closed his eyes briefly in horror as though he could not believe his ears before he opened them once more and glared at her. He looked quite insulted. "The _Black Pearl_, darling? Oh, so many reasons," he said, his eyes glinting wistfully. "It's my ship, and it always has been, no matter how many times Barbossa's claimed me title of Captain."

"Is he the man who's got it now?"

"Aye, love. That he is," Captain Sparrow said mournfully.

"How'd he get it?" she asked.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Me own foolishness, darling," he told her. "I left it in his care for a moment with me drunken first mate, who subsequently passed out cold, and awoke soon after only to find that the _Pearl_ had gone. There's really not much of a story there. He just… took it." The Captain scowled furiously.

"How do you know where it's headed?"

His nose wrinkled, and his lip curled irritably. "I just… _do_, pet, alright?" he said, his voice in a forced calm. He tightened his hold on his compass protectively. "Now quit asking so many bloody questions, Carla."

"It's Carlotta," she corrected.

"Whatever," he said with a dramatic gesture of his arms. He waved her off. "Now, if you don't mind, darlin', please… shoo." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're pressin' me rather unstable temper with all your damned pestering, love. Shoo."

She scoffed. "You're daft if you think I'll let you order me about that way."

"Daft, am I?" He gave a low chuckle. "So I've been told before, darlin'," he said smoothly, wobbling away from the helm and taking a slow, staggering step towards her. "But I'm afraid you might be a bit daft, as well, Carla…" He took several more slow steps toward her as he spoke. Her heart missed a beat as he drew very close to her. "… Y'see, while you are on a ship with me, you're to do as I say." He was much, much too close, now. She could feel his body heat radiating over her. She could smell his putrid breath again, and the acrid odor of rum that seemed to hover constantly around him. When he spoke, it was with a low, alluring purr. "I am your _Captain_, now, after all, and _as_ your Captain… whatever I say goes." Her breathing grew heavy as she stared up into his face. His gaze slid lecherously down her body. Those probing, kohl-lined eyes—which she found so inexplicably charming—were resting on the small amount of cleavage her dress exposed. His expression was clouded with deep, mounting lust. Was he never satisfied, even after those whores back in Santiago had so willingly given themselves to him?

Pressed between the teasing Captain Sparrow and the wood railing, she felt unbearably helpless, and that feeling terrified her. She hated to feel helpless. Without thinking, she lifted her shaking arm, and smacked him hard across the face. He stumbled to the side with a grimace, and backed off. She remained frozen where she stood, shocked at her own outrageous daring. What might he do to her, now, after her outright disrespect? He was a pirate, after all, and he was her Captain, now, too.

"Should've seen that coming," he muttered to himself, sashaying back to the ship's wheel. He seemed completely unabashed.

"I…" she gasped. "I'm sorry, sir, I…"

"Oh, shut it," he said dismissively. He looked back down at his compass, his expression quickly returning to one of deep concentration. Several minutes passed, and she kept her mouth shut, biting her lip to prevent herself from piping up with more questions. Her eyes were aching with tiredness. She hadn't even noticed how exhausted she was until she'd been forced to keep silent. "Blasts," Captain Sparrow swore furiously at his compass. "The _Pearl_'s changed course again." He looked grumpy for a moment, before suddenly bending over to retrieve something at his feet. She couldn't see what it was, but when he emerged, she snorted with disgust. He was uncorking a fresh bottle of rum. Carlotta cringed, feeling slightly ill as she watched him take a good, long swig. It seemed to refresh him, and he looked back at her with a slightly friendlier attitude. "You'll be wantin' to change, love," he told her, gesturing to her attire with the bottle dangling from his carefree fingers. "If you're planning to stay on the ship with me, you'll make yourself useful, and I assure you, darlin', it'll be rather difficult to do your share of the work if you're tripping over your frills." He glanced down at the skirt of her dress. She looked down at herself as well, slightly offended. She'd worked plenty hard on the farm while wearing this old, faded dress. "I'm sure there be some sailor's garments in the captain's quarters that you could borrow, but if there be none, love, I'm sure no one would mind if you changed out of your dress anyway." He grinned wickedly, and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Why is it that in my time of need, the only person who was willing to help me escape had to be a drunken pirate?" Carlotta mused aloud, smirking at the Captain.

"Hey, now," he warned in self defense, smiling amusedly at her, "I may be a drunken pirate, and not your first choice as a savior, but don't tell me you aren't grateful, love, for saving your pretty neck."

She sniffed. "Of course I am, Captain," she sighed in compliance. Sometimes she hated herself for being so easily defeated. She hated that she was weak, and such a coward. It was a flaw she could not shake. It was why she had run from Santiago, and was now stuck here with Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Always glad to be of service," the Captain garbled with a rumbling laugh. "Who am I to turn away a damsel in distress, eh?" He drank deeply from his bottle, his balance shifting as he did so. Carlotta had to look away. "You'll be wanting some rest before I get to puttin' you to good use on this ship."

She looked back at him. "Is it really possible for us to crew a whole ship with only two people?"

Captain Sparrow grinned wolfishly. "There was once a day I migh' 'ave thought it near impossible, too, love, but that was before I met that damned whelp." Carlotta had no idea who he was referring to, but decided it was best to hold her tongue. She didn't dare test the temper of a man with a bottle of rum in his hand. She eyed it warily, holding in her curiosity for the sake of her own safety. She deeply mistrusted alcohol. Luckily, though, he answered her unasked questions for her. "Ah, dear William," he slurred. "He was a good kid, he was, and a good hand to have around the ship, too, even if he was a bit… puny." He smirked amusedly at nothing in particular.

"What happened to him?" she asked before she could stop herself. She had noticed his use of the past tense, and it had sparked her questions again.

His face grew very dark. "What happened to him?" he repeated, clearly turning the question over in his head. He glanced down at his front, as though confused, his mouth half open as he prepared to say something. His words were slow, as though he was unsure of the truth behind them. "I gave up what I wanted more than anything so that he could live," he pronounced carefully and quietly, "but killed him in the process."

"And… what was that you wanted more than anything, sir?" Carlotta inquired breathlessly. The drama behind her Captain's voice was too intriguing to resist.

The Captain's lip curled. "Never you mind," he drawled, shooting her a suave grin. "That'll all be clear enough, in time. Don't you worry your curly little head about it, lass. Now, shoo." A strange shadow had passed over his face. His expression was indiscernible. Her eyebrows knitted together in fascination as she watched him grow so serious. He was such a strange man, this Captain Sparrow. She had never come into contact with pirates before, but with the way her parents had spoken of them, she had always imagined something far more… fearsome, she supposed. Though Captain Sparrow was intimidating enough, he had certainly not yet given her any reason not to trust him. His demeanor was certainly unbalanced, however. The speed with which he changed from mocking to serious almost worried her. He was altogether quite peculiar, she concluded finally.

Sighing, she shuffled off, swaying on wobbly legs across the deck. "Haven't found your sea legs yet, lass?" she heard him ask from back at the helm somewhere behind her. A laugh was present in his tone. She shook her head, not looking back at him as she clung to the rail on her way to the captain's cabin. "Ye'll find them soon enough, Carla, darlin'. Don't worry. Just give it time," he slurred. There came a sloshing noise from behind her, and though she didn't turn around, she knew he was gulping down more rum. Her stomach flipped.

"Thank you, Captain," she grumbled over her shoulder. "But it's Carlotta… not Carla, sir."

His drunken laugh grew distant as she vanished behind the door to the captain's quarters.

The place was very neat. It had clearly been home to a quaint and orderly sailor. The desk's surface was clearly well organized, she noticed, coming closer to it and touching a few of the papers and books curiously. She opened the drawers, feeling slightly guilty about searching a man's stolen property. She ignored her conscience, however, as she got her hands upon more books. Carlotta had always loved books, but she had never been given the chance to read many. She'd bought a few when she'd been let into town, but had never managed to finish them all; she had never had enough time. Her father had kept her quite busy enough.

Her cheeks burned with anger as she remembered it all—the farm, her confined life, and her father. Oh, how she hated him, and she knew he hated her just as thoroughly in return.

Scowling at her thoughts, she slid open the drawers of a heavyset wooden dresser. The navy waistcoats and off-white breeches intimidated her. She gulped, lifting a white linen shirt from its folded state and holding it before her eyes. She could not imagine walking about in public in something so free. For a moment, she ached longingly to feel that sort of freedom, but she returned to her senses as the ship tilted slightly, and she lost her balance again. She caught herself against a wall, and breathed deeply. Stuffing the clothes back into the drawer, she shut it in a huff. She couldn't believe the situation she was forced into. Carlotta thought vaguely about asking Captain Sparrow to simply let her off at the nearest port, where she could then start a new life, but she felt silly to think such a thing. She had no particular skills, and no way of making a living. She was several years passed the usual marrying age, and she figured it would be difficult to find a nice man who'd have her. She wasn't even certain she would want to get married, anyway. She wasn't sure she trusted men enough to believe that one would really support her for the rest of their life together. She had no friends, and no other family to speak of, so there wasn't even anyone she could contact to help her out of her predicament. The only option she had now, she realized—though it sickened her to think it—was to stay aboard the ship with her new pirate captain.

Carlotta threw herself onto the bed, grumbling. Though it was certainly not the most comfortable thing she'd ever lain on, it felt heavenly to her weary limbs. She had a feeling that if she was about to undergo training about the ways of a ship, she was going to have to adjust to feeling this tired more regularly. She sighed. This pillow beneath her mound of hair was so fabulously inviting. Frowning against its soft fabric, she wondered more about the life she had condemned herself to. Was she to be considered a pirate, now that she had successfully aided one in stealing a ship so that he could steal back another ship that had been previously stolen from him? Her head throbbed painfully.

She groaned, rolled over, and floated into a tormented sleep.

* * *

Carlotta awoke feeling hot, sweaty, and dizzy. She felt barely rested, as though she had only just closed her eyes a minute ago. She sat up, her temples pounding furiously. Sunlight was pouring in through the small window the cabin offered. It streamed across the floorboards, and danced over her skirt as she stepped through the light to cross the room. Her entire body was slick with sticky sweat. The dress would have to go, she decided resignedly. She felt awkward, knowing she was alone on a ship with no one but a licentious, drunken pirate. True, she thought his chiseled features were outstandingly handsome, but that didn't make the knowledge that he was her only company any more comforting. She glanced anxiously around the cabin before she began to strip, and jumped at the sight of another person beside her. Her heart seemed to have missed a beat in her surprise, but she placed a hand over it to steady herself. It was only her reflection in a full length mirror propped up beside the dresser. She gazed at herself in it. She was short, and although thin, she always felt slightly disproportionate. Her legs were short and thick, her hips were voluptuous and wide, and her chest was quite minute in comparison to her bottom half, giving her a slightly imbalanced appearance. 

She tore her eyes ashamedly from her naked figure when she thought again of Captain Sparrow, as though she felt if she could see herself naked, then he could, too. She struggled with the sailor's clothing for a while; she was unfamiliar with a man's garments. After a few long minutes, however, she managed the breeches and shirt. She slipped the navy coat over the breezy outfit, and fixed its buttons messily. Her fingers shook anxiously, making the task of dressing slightly more difficult than it should have been. When she was clad in all the man's clothes, she allowed herself another glance in the mirror. She looked very odd. She might have really been a man, she thought bitterly, placing her hands over her nearly-flat chest as though to check that her breasts were still there. If it weren't for her ample hips, girlish face, and long, bushy hair, she might have really passed as a male sailor. Her lip curled in disgust. If her mother could have seen her, now…

Shaking her head, she swallowed. It hurt too much to think of her mother—her good, sweet mother, who never deserved the life she'd been forced into by her husband. Hatred for her father was pounding in her veins again, making her agitated. Raging internally, she stomped out of the captain's cabin and onto the deck again.

The moment she found herself outside, she felt blind. The sun pierced her squinted eyes like a mocking, orange dagger. Judging by the direction of its glare, she could figure that it had to be sometime closely following sunrise. She clearly hadn't slept very long, which she should have known by how tired she still was. She staggered to the helm, barely lifting her line of vision from the wood beneath her feet in an attempt to shield her eyes from the scorching sun.

Captain Jack Sparrow was still there, his eyes narrowed at the distant horizon, and his jaw set. His worn out jacket had been tossed to the floorboards, and his stained shirt hung loosely off his muscled frame, showing off a bit of his slick, dark chest. His entire body glowed in the pitiless sunrays, and his flesh shone temptingly with sweat. Carlotta felt herself shudder uncontrollably, her heart increasing its pace as she gazed at the marvelously handsome pirate before her. He hadn't spotted her yet, so she indulged herself in a bit more ogling before he finally noticed her presence. His eyes flitted down her body again. She cleared her throat nervously, feeling her skin prickle, and sweat drip down the back of her neck beneath her hair. She fidgeted with the pockets of her coat, her heart pounding more heavily. She hated his lustful gaze upon her—it made her feel helpless again.

At long last, he grinned at her. His gold teeth glinted blindingly in the overbearing sun. His eyes were sparkling. "I honestly preferred the dress," he said, before turning back to his compass. "The _Pearl_ keeps changing directions," he spat bitterly.

"Why's that, sir?" she asked, digging under one of her jacket sleeves to scratch an itch that was developing beneath it. The coat was magnificently uncomfortable, particularly in this heat. She couldn't believe it was so hot, even though there was plenty of wind, and the sea spray was prevalent enough to be felt.

He stared down at her, his beetle-black eyes bearing into her. "It's either Jack, or Captain, dearie," he said with a slight laugh. "Stop with this '_sir_' nonsense. I may be your superior, but I'm most certainly no 'sir.'" He looked cocky and proud, and extremely amused by her.

"Sorry, sir." The Captain raised his eyebrows. Her lips twitched as she struggled not to laugh at herself. "Jack," she tried, correcting herself. Jack… the name tasted strange on her tongue. Being on a first name basis with a pirate implied intimacy, like friendship, and befriending a pirate was one of the last things she wanted to do.

"Good," Jack declared.

"So… why is the _Pearl_'s course so varying… Jack?" Again, she felt awkward to say the name aloud.

He looked away from her. "I'm sure _Captain_ Barbossa wants exactly what I do," he said vaguely, "but he can't get it without what I've got. So if you'd like my educated guess…" Jack glanced back at Carlotta, his eyes very cold. "…He's after me."

"And what is it you've got that he needs to get what he wants?"

Jack did not answer her. "He left me in Tortuga, and now he's paying for it by having to seek me out again." He smiled wryly. "He's no idea where I am, now, so he's forced to search the entire Caribbean, it seems." He looked down at his compass again.

"How is your compass showing you where he is?"

His eyes were bright as he smiled at her again, and her heart missed a beat. "This isn't any ordinary compass," he sneered. "It's a very special one."

"So… what does it do?" she asked.

Again, he didn't answer, but he did flip the compass shut and return it to its spot on his belt. "Well then, Carla, my dear…"

"_Carlotta_!"

"…I'm thinkin' I might show y' all about crewin' a ship, now, seein' as we aren't gettin' anywhere with followin' the _Pearl_ at the moment. We'll just give her a break for a few hours while I get you to work, then we'll be back on 'er heels."

"Y'know, I can't help wondering," she said, crossing her arms and squinting at him, "what you were doing in Santiago if you were so determined to find your ship, and it'd been stolen just two days before."

He laughed. "You saw the boat I was left with," he chuckled. "The _Black Pearl_ is the fastest ship in the Caribbean, love, and I was stuck with that dingy bilge craft." He snorted. "I lost track of her quicker than a wench could ever drop a man's trousers. With no supplies, what else could I do but make port? Once there, I thought I'd at least take a bit of a break."

Carlotta grinned. "Lazy git," she scoffed. "That was some break," she said, raiding her eyebrows. "You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself." She glared pointedly at him in amusement. Both of them were remembering the flock that had surrounded Jack in that tavern.

"What can I say, darlin'?" he asked rhetorically, stepping from the helm to approach her in his usual confident swagger. "I've a way with women."

"Have you, now?" she inquired, trying hard not to sound as breathless as she felt from his close proximity. She swallowed. "Can't imagine why," she stated, smiling tauntingly at him.

He stopped, his eyes fixed maddeningly on her face. She tried to avoid his gaze, and her eyes rested instead on the bronze skin exposed by his loose shirt. Faint scars were visible. She suddenly found herself inexplicably longing to reach out and touch that enticing flesh there. Her stare traveled downward, her pulse violent and torturous. He sniggered at her. She snapped her head back up, and she saw that lustful expression on his face again. She took a step back. "Can't you?" He smirked. "You keep tellin' yourself that, darlin'," he growled suggestively, before turning his back on her as he headed toward the front of the ship. She let out a shaky breath as he left her. She was beginning to feel more and more vulnerable about the fact that she was alone on a ship with such a womanizer, particularly one she found attractive, so his closeness made her helpless—a feeling she seriously detested.

She was watching him strut off with a dazed expression on her face, when he suddenly spun on his heels to face her from afar. "Come on, move it!" he boomed, making her jump. He beckoned her to him with a wave of his dirty, ringed hand. She grumbled irritably to herself. Of course, he wanted to make her work, now. She had been so distracted by the way his body moved that she had forgotten that fact already, even within a few seconds. Blushing furiously with shame, she trotted off to follow Jack to the front of the ship.

Within an hour, Jack had taught her the names of all the different decks, all the different compartments of the hull, the different masts, and the different sails. There were so many names for things, her head was spinning. It took her seemingly forever to simply remember the difference between the foremast, the mainmast, and the mizzenmast. The rest was even more of a blur to her. Another several hours were spent attempting to teach her the tasks involved in keeping the ship running smoothly. He taught her about the rigging, and how to clean the decks and keep weapons in good condition. Hours had passed before he started trying to show her how to run out the guns, and she was not pleased about the task. When she could not get it right, Jack began to fume about her ignorance.

"It's just my soddin' luck," he started to complain, "that the only person I was able to convince to help me was a little girl too bloody deprived to have even the slightest amount of experience with sailing or pirating."

"Hey," she cried defensively. "I'm trying, here, Jack! It's not as though I'm glad that the only person willing to help me escape from Santiago was a damned wretched _pirate_. If I'd had a better option that could have worked, I'd have taken it, but I didn't. And at least I managed to help you get a ship at all, which you couldn't have done by yourself." He looked sulky. "Don't tell me you aren't grateful, Jack."

He threw up his hands in frustration, scowling, and went to stalk back up the ladder from the gun deck to the main deck. She followed him, not wanting to stay below deck with all those deadly cannons. "This is pointless," he groaned. "We need a real crew… and some more supplies and food, come to think of it."

Carlotta nodded in sleepy agreement. Her stomach was growling desperately. She hadn't even noticed how hungry she was until Jack had mentioned the word 'food.' She placed a hand over her stomach, trying to calm its needy gurgling. "Should we make port, then?"

"Yes," he said, "quickly, just for supplies and a quick round-up of some useful crew members."

"So what's the nearest port?" she inquired wonderingly. "How far have we gone, anyway?"

Jack glanced at a map of the Caribbean ocean, and grinned wickedly. "Not far," he told her. "The closest port at the moment would be Tortuga."

"Tortuga?" Carlotta scratched her neck, thinking. "Isn't that the place you left only two days ago?"

He laughed. "That it is, love."

"And that's where we're headed again?"

Giving the wheel a good thrusting spin, he squinted off to the far right. "It seems not even me strongest determination can keep me from Tortuga."

Carlotta clutched onto the side rail as the ship began its wide turn. "So… Tortuga it is, then, I suppose," she squeaked.

Jack smiled into the distance. "Aye," he said in a low voice. "Tortuga it is."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading, lovelies!! Take a moment to review and keep me satisfied! 


	3. Tortuga

**A/N:** Hurray! Another four reviews was good enough for me once again, and I've been encouraged to write another chapter, so yaaaay!!

Jack's quite the horny little pirate man, isn't he? Hee hee. Yes, he is. And we love him.

And oh wow, who else saw Sweeney Todd and loved it?? I wasn't so sure Johnny Depp could pull it off, at first, but... well... he DID!! I felt it was necessary to mention here, seeing as this is a fanfiction about another character of Depp's. But... yeah, I thought the movie was FABULOUS, 'cept that they left out a bunch of the best songs. Waaah. But other than that, it was magnificent, because Johnny Depp's such a damned BRILLIANT actor. Oh yes, and he was also (as usual) fucking SEXY. It's shameful. No man should EVER be that sexy when wielding murderous razors... and yet, there he was.

Anyway, ENJOY THE CHAPTER, and thanks for reading!

* * *

"Tell me about Tortuga, Jack," Carlotta begged as she tugged on a line. Sweat was forming on her brow, but she ignored it. She was used to physically strenuous work, though in her past she had merely done her farming duties. Never had she done a man's job like this before, and though it was tougher than any of her previous responsibilities, she could get through it by pretending it was only as bad as weeding a garden under a roasting sun. Indeed, her skin was burning now, as it would have been in her old garden, too. It wasn't as different as she'd thought, after all. 

Jack laughed, sauntering away from the helm for a moment to peer over the side rail in search of a sign they were getting close. "Tortuga, darlin'?" he chuckled, still scanning the horizon. "Oh, it's splendid, my dear. A marvelous town for any lowly, drunken, unruly scum what fancies himself a pirate, or any other manner of thief, beggar, or whore." He glanced at her, smirking at the apprehensive look on her face. "By the way, for a beginner, you're certainly doin' an excellent job, pet," he told her, ambling back to the wheel. "There's only a little more to do 'fore we finally reach Tortuga, where we can pressgang s'more desperate, unsuccessful lowlifes who'll be needin' a way out. Then you'll 'ave some help around the ship, and y' won't need to strain yourself s' much." His eyes provoked her body again, and already she felt her bosom heave with anxiety. She turned her back on him scornfully, putting her whole weight against the line to finish the job. She stood back, admiring her work, trying to ignore the feeling of Jack's gaze still invading her privacy. She scowled at the sails, trying hard to push sickening thoughts of him from her mind. Calming herself slightly with a deep breath, she thought about how good it would be to not need to crew the entire ship by herself.

"Thank you, Jack," she said earnestly. "I'll be glad for a bit of help." She turned back around to look pointedly at him. "_You_ could help a little, too, y'know."

"Me?" He snorted. "Carla, dear, someone's got to steer this damned ship, or we'd be lost. Besides, why would I want to exert me self when I can just sit back and enjoy you sweatin' and wrigglin' about all over the place?" He glared lasciviously at her chest. In this heat, she had decided to remove the waistcoat of her outfit, and simply be free in her shirt, doublet and breeches. The only downside to this was that her breasts were slightly more prominent, now, giving Jack every opportunity to leer at them.

She made a noise of disgust. "It's Carlotta, Jack. Not Carla," she reminded him in frustration, and stalked down to the very front of the ship, gazing out at the open sea. She could see land. "Is that Tortuga?" she called back to her captain.

"Aye," he roared gleefully. "That be Tortuga." She looked at him again. His grin was manic, and frightened her slightly. She also couldn't help noticing that his eyes were very heavily lidded, and looked bloodshot.

Coming back over to him, already forgiving his lechery, she sighed sympathetically. Her need to please was taking over her again, though she hated that side of her viciously. It was uncontrollable. "Jack," she said, her voice suddenly very light and motherly, "have you slept even once since before we boarded?"

He looked at her. His grin was still present, but his eyes were quite cold and stony. "Not a wink, love," he affirmed. Those dark eyes seemed to penetrate her, but not kindly; indeed, they were cruel and calculating as they scanned her face. They made her shiver, and she had to look away for fear that she would lose herself under such a dominating gaze. She breathed deeply, thinking about Jack. They had undergone another night of sailing, during which she'd slept just as uneasily as the previous night, and Jack had remained on deck. Now, as it neared midday, she began to feel sorry that she was getting more rest than he was. She had never been allowed to have more than her superiors before, so it felt strange. She didn't like to think he hadn't slept in over twenty four hours, when she had been allowed sleep for the past two nights, and _he _was the one who was doing the steering. Surely it wasn't fair to him.

"You can get more sleep once we've a crew, can't you, Jack?" she inquired hopefully. Though she hated him, she worried for him. He was her superior, after all, and it was her duty as a woman to make sure that the men above her were well taken care of.

His gaze raked her body again. "I can," he agreed. "Now stop worryin' so damned much, or I'll have had it with you, and you can jump ship at Tortuga and I won't spare even an ounce of compassion for ye."

Her stomach somersaulted. "Fine," she spat, feeling suddenly furious. "I was just offering you some concern and kindness, not insulting you! Why d'you have to be so dismissing about genuine kindness? It's not like it'll do you any harm."

Jack swayed precariously on the balls of his feet, his grin widening. "Yes, but I never asked for your kindness, now did I, Carla? If I need it, I'll ask for it, but I assure you, young missy… I neither need it, nor deserve it, so _sod off_."

Carlotta fell ashamedly silent. She had tried to be nice, and it had failed. Perhaps Jack Sparrow was a lost cause to try befriending, but she was starting to feel very lonely and quite desperate for someone whose company she could enjoy. She felt, now, that she would be very grateful for some new faces aboard the ship.

She shuffled off back to the captain's cabin in irritated defeat, where she sat at the desk to busy herself with a book until they pulled into Tortuga at last.

Jack summoned her from the captain's quarters as they drew close to the port. He helped her to weigh the anchor, grumbling and rolling his eyes the whole time about how ignorant and inexperienced she was. As they finally stopped at the dock, she turned to him anxiously. "Shouldn't I… y'know… change?"

He raised his eyebrows at her over his nearly empty bottle of rum. "Why would ye do _that_, darlin'? This is no respectable town, love. This is Tortuga. Nobody'll give a rat's ass what you're wearin'. As it is, they mightn't even notice ye're a woman." He eyed her bosom amusedly, and she had the sudden urge to smack him again. As he took another swig, she narrowed her eyes furiously at the bottle, feeling sickened by it. He noticed where she was looking, and grinned as he pulled it from his lips. Holding it out to her, he asked, "Did ye want some, Carla, dear? 'Tis me last bottle. You're welcome to it." He leered at her, and she made another noise of disgust.

"It's Carlotta," she corrected him. "And goodness, no. I don't drink." He looked absolutely amazed. He squinted suspiciously at her as though she must be the devil itself to dislike rum.

"Why not, love?" he inquired.

She shrugged, turning away to set up the gangplank. "I just don't. I don't trust alcohol." She ignored the indignant sounds that he was making behind her back, and stepped down the plank to reach the dock. It felt wonderful to stand on level ground once more, but the place smelled even worse than the bad part of town in Santiago. She gagged. "Oh god," she choked as Jack leapt down beside her. "So… this is Tortuga, is it?"

He smiled toothily at her, smashing the now-empty bottle on the ground to his right. "Lovely, isn't it?" he murmured, looking around the town fondly. She snorted. 'Lovely' wasn't exactly the way she'd have put it.

"If you say so," she responded skeptically. Everywhere she looked there were whores indulging drunken men, and even more drunk men attacking each other pointlessly, while onlookers laughed, cheered, and hooted delightedly. She kept as close to Jack as she could as he set off through the crowds, afraid for her safety in this violent port. They trundled through the mess with apparent aim, and Carlotta simply stayed at Jack's heels, for she didn't know what they were looking for.

Something went swinging by her head in the din, and she leapt up fearfully, grabbing hold of Jack's shoulders and pressing herself against his back. This place was not very inviting. It was worse than Santiago, if that was even possible. She was panting too heavily, and glancing around too nervously to realize that Jack's face was contorted with gleeful lust. Her small breasts were squashed against the middle of his back, and her pelvis had collided slightly with his backside. He was extremely warm in her grasp. Her face flushed scarlet when she realized this, and she let go of him at once. "Well, now, my dear Carla, I had no idea you wanted me that way," he growled mockingly, his eyes glinting as he grinned wickedly at her over his shoulder.

"Oh, shut up," she snarled, burying her face in her hands. The heat seemed to be increasing, she thought. It was rising dangerously through her cheeks, and she felt like her head might actually burst with embarrassment. She had never been that close to a man in her entire life, save for her father. Put simply, though, she had never been that close to a man of her own free will. She felt dirty, as though to cling to a man without any wrong intentions was still, for some reason, wrong.

Still chiding herself mentally for her momentary lapse of good judgment and physical restraint, she continued to follow Jack through the suffocating throng. Quite suddenly, though, he stopped. She looked around him to see what had halted him, and had to stifle a laugh. A young woman with fiery red hair stood before them, her hands on her hips, looking positively furious. Though all she could see was his back, Carlotta could tell by Jack's stance that he was suddenly feeling awkward. "Scarlet!" he chimed. "Good to see ye, again, love." The woman did not reply, but smacked him hard across the face before stalking off and making a point to sway her hips dramatically as she went.

"What on earth was that about?" Carlotta asked Jack with a giggle.

Massaging his jaw, he glanced at her over his shoulder again. "Make a note of this for yourself, dearie," he told her warningly, "that I've somehow managed to piss off a great deal of beautiful women."

She smiled widely, unable to control herself. It made sense. "I can imagine," she agreed, and he glared at her before heading off again.

The swaggering pirate led her into a pub he seemed to know while she followed him, still very red in the face—partially from her own embarrassment, and partially from amusement at the hit Jack had just taken. He was glancing around, now, his eyes narrowed, clearly scanning the dense crowd for someone specific, then he flung out his arms wildly in greeting to someone Carlotta could not see. "Gibbs!" he cried delightedly, crushing several wenches as he made to get to the other man. Carlotta squeezed herself after him, finally emerging where Jack was to find him shaking the hand of a burly man with enormous grey sideburns that melded with his rough beard.

"Cap'n, 's been days! Where've you been?" he rumbled.

"Been headed after the _Pearl_, mate," Jack told him slyly.

The man called Gibbs' eyes widened. "Jack," he warned, "there ain't no way in heaven, hell, or Davy Jones' Locker you'd get 'er back from Barbossa again, and ye know it."

Jack's expression glowed with unwavering determination. "Says who? It's my ship, and it was _your_ fault it got stolen this time, so you're goin' to 'elp me gather a small crew, savvy?"

Gibbs looked unhappy about this, but he nodded along anyway in resign. His gaze then slid from Jack's pleased face to Carlotta. He raised his eyebrows at her. "And who be this, Jack?" he asked his captain.

"She's no one," Jack said, waving off the question and trying to shoo Gibbs away from her, but she introduced herself before he could stop her.

"And ye've been travelin' with the cap'n, have you?" He smiled at her, but something in his eyes told her that he was assuming she and Jack were… _involved_.

"Er… yes, I have," she said with a nod.

"She needed a passage off where she came from," Jack explained impatiently, "but she's nothing to getting' the _Pearl_ back. She's been nothin' but a bloody nuisance, anyway, 'cept for helpin' me commandeer a little merchant ship." Before Gibbs could say another word about her, though, Jack looked stern. "Master Gibbs, my good man, you are going to find me a nice small crew, and we're going to return to the _Pearl_."

"The last time ye tried to steal back the Pearl, cap'n, you had good leverage, and even though the plan didn't work out as it should've, it was a good plan nonetheless before it failed. Tell me ye've got a plan again, this time, or some useful bargaining tool, have ye?"

Jack grinned, his golden teeth sparkling in the flickering light of the pub. "I stole Barbossa's maps to the you-know-what," he said, as though this was supposed to mean something.

Mr. Gibbs didn't seem to understand this any more than she did, Carlotta noticed. Jack looked pointedly at him, but he still appeared bewildered. Jack rolled his eyes. "The Fountain of Youth," he growled finally. "I stole the maps to the Fountain of Youth, which is where Barbossa was planning to head next. He wants that life as bad as I do, so he's bound to pay anythin' to get 'em back from me."

"And what if 'is terms be killin' ye, and simply stealin' the maps back?" Gibbs inquired. It was a good point, and Carlotta felt her heart miss a beat at the thought of such an event happening. She didn't know what this Barbossa man looked like, but the sudden image of a faceless pirate appeared in her head, pointing a pistol at Jack, who looked completely unconcerned. She pictured the shot, pictured Jack falling lifelessly to the ground, and her blood ran cold. Jack was a likable character, and as sickened as she was by him, she wouldn't want him dead. He had helped her escape Santiago, after all.

"You don't think that's likely, do you?" she asked Jack quickly, her expression wrought with anxious concern.

Jack did not answer her, but gazed stubbornly at Gibbs, who gazed back at him imploringly. "Jack, what's in that head of yours?" he hissed. "He's no reason not to kill ye, now. The Brethren Court isn't bein' summoned for now, so he's no need for you to stay alive anymore, Jack. He wouldn't hesitate, this time."

"We'll get to that when the time comes," Jack drawled, his lip curled impatiently. "All I need right now, though, is for you to gather a few of your best men, and form a crew. We only need another three or four hands on board, what with the three of us already on 'er."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at Carlotta. "_She's_ a pirate?" he asked.

"I most certainly am not!" she cried indignantly.

"Nah," Jack agreed, "she may not be a pirate, now, but with a little more work, I think she could at least be a good pair o' hands." He looked her up and down once again, his dark eyes overwhelming her sense of reality so she felt temporarily lost. She shook the feeling off quickly, though, and returned her attentions to the conversation now taking place between the two men, which had become a discussion of their options for congregating a new crew.

* * *

Only five young men agreed to join up with them, but Jack seemed satisfied. "Why do we want so few people?" Carlotta asked him curiously, watching the new recruits load supplies onto the ship. 

"Because, darlin'," he replied smugly, "if we have many more than this, our numbers will be overwhelming once I get the _Pearl _back."

"And what happens if you don't get it back?" she inquired, but she regretted it the moment the words escaped her lips. Surprisingly, though, Jack didn't seem to care. As a matter of fact, he grinned.

"Oh, that's an impossibility, love," he told her solemnly as he uncorked a bottle of rum.

"Why?" she asked.

He turned back to her, his eyes dancing. "Because, dearie," he said, his grin widening, "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

Her eyebrows rose, and her lip curled, but she nodded. Was he really that sure of himself? Sometimes even the best plans could go wrong, and he assumed he'd succeed at this voyage simply because of who he was? "And... what's the Fountain of Youth?" she pressed. "Why's Barbossa after it? What does it do?"

The Captain gave her a dark look before turning his back on her. She glared confusedly after him as he sashayed gracefully up the gangplank and back onto the ship, his now-open bottle swinging precariously from his hand. _What an odd, egotistical man he is_, she thought to herself as she followed him onto the main deck.

The men Jack had just hired were already doing a good share to help pull the ship from the dock at Tortuga, while Jack started shouting out their heading. They all smelled dreadful, but Carlotta was beginning to get used to bad smells. Two days alone on a ship with Jack had been practice enough for accustoming herself to malodorous pirates. She coughed as she passed one of them while his arms were held out. He glared at her, and she gave him an innocent smile before scampering off to where she was being ordered.

The ship rolled from Tortuga, but the hubbub they left behind still met their ears as they sailed away. Carlotta's heart was pounding. She was feeling more and more like a pirate every day she spent with Jack, and as it drew nearer to sunset, now, that feeling increased. It had been only three days since she'd run, and she had her entire life ahead of her, now. How much of it would she spend pirating the seas with Jack, she wondered? So far, though, her positive side reminded her sensible one, Jack hadn't done anything remotely untrustworthy. But it has only been three days, her sensibility countered.

She shut her eyes tightly, trying to block out the little argument in her brain that was making her skull throb painfully. Resting her front against the rail of the back deck, whose specific name she currently could not remember, she listened to the gentle sway of the sea at the ship's base and the buzz of the crew's chatter behind her. She could feel the low sun still burning her face, and the water's spray tickling her skin lightly, like a loving caress. The calm wind blew her twisted hair around her head, tangling it more than it already was. She smiled. Sailing wasn't all that bad, really. It was almost… relaxing, actually, if she discounted the work that was required of her aboard the ship.

It took her a moment to register the clunking footsteps that approached her. When the pungent scent of alcohol wafted through her nostrils, she scowled, and opened her eyes again. Jack had come to stand at her side, gazing after Tortuga pensively. "I've a feeling I'll be back," he said gravely. "I always end up back at that shit hole." He took a swig of rum.

"Why do you drink so much, Jack?" she asked before she could stop herself.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "'S good," he said defensively, pouting slightly. "Why _shouldn't_ I drink s' much?"

She shrugged, looking back out at the shrinking Tortuga. "Rum makes men do stupid things," she said darkly. "I don't trust it."

To her surprise, he let out a barking laugh. "You sound just like bloody Elizabeth," he roared, "'cept she was a lot more eloquent."

Her stomach churned. "Who's Elizabeth?" she spat, surprised by the irritation in her voice. It annoyed her that Jack had so many women. No one should be so lecherous. "Another beautiful woman you _somehow_ managed to piss off?"

He scowled. "Put simply, yes," he admitted, "but not in the way you might assume. She and the whelp were so bloody devoted to each other, I could never get between those two. They're married, now, but yeah… I pretty much ruined her once-perfect life."

She gazed intently at Jack, who looked so uncharacteristically contemplative. "How?" she asked, her tone rich with concern and interest.

Jack stared at the wooden boards of the deck, and said nothing for a long time. The little she could see of his shadowy, handsome face appeared furious. She sighed, and rested her elbows on the railing, staring at the pinprick that was Tortuga. She rested her chin in her delicate hands, waiting patiently for Jack to speak. Her heart was beating fast with the hope that he would answer her, and feed her increasing curiosity, but she had a miserable feeling that he wouldn't. At long last, he said quietly, "I got her husband killed not ten minutes after they were married. I gave up the world so he could live, and they could stay together, but…" She waited for him to continue with bated breath. Such drama in her captain's past made her all the more fond of him. She was always one for a good story. "…To save him still separated him from her. I could have let him die, or I could have made sure he lived, and forced him into a life he didn't want in which he'd only see his Elizabeth again once every ten years. I chose the latter."

Carlotta's chest felt very tight, as though her heart had uncomfortably expanded with anguish inside of her. The sadness in his voice was driving her wild. "Jack, that's…"

"Well, what's done is done, ain' it?" he said, looking back up with a tense grin. "And I can now officially say I've faced an opportunity to do the right thing, and taken it. That's something I couldn't say before, really. Maybe just once before then, but that got me into trouble, now, didn't it?" His left hand shot impulsively to his right arm, and his fingers gripped his wrist, as though it was hurting him. She watched this strange occurrence curiously, remembering the P shaped burn mark she'd spotted on him in Santiago.

"The East India Trading Company got to you," she whispered sadly. She hadn't meant to say it out loud, and now she blushed as Jack glared at her.

"What's done is done," he growled, "and it isn't as though you've got the cleanest record, either, lass." He straightened his posture, staring piercingly into her eyes. "Now I really would like to know," he said, moving closer to her. "…What were ye runnin' from back in Santiago?"

Her breath caught in her chest. His voice was low, and felt so sweet on her ears. Did he really care? She'd never had friends to care about her before. The moment felt very intimate, and she felt suddenly quite open with Jack. As though she was afraid the moment would soon vanish, and he would stop caring, she spoke rapidly. "My father," she admitted quietly. "I was raised by him and my mother on our little farm, and I was never let out. My mother was a teacher, and taught me household duties and how to speak properly all on her own; I was never allowed to go to school, not even the one she taught at, so I never had friends. We weren't rich, but we got by. When I was about ten, my father decided I should work out on the fields and in the barn, because it would save us money on hiring workers to do it for us. So… just recently we've been getting poorer, because my father started spending everything we had on rum. He wasn't too pleasant, after that, if you can imagine." She started to feel awkward, and couldn't go on, realizing that she was divulging way too much to Jack—to a _pirate_. She didn't want to tell the end of her story, the part that explained her need for escape. She didn't want to explain the way her father had beaten her mother, and the way he had beaten her. She didn't want to explain about the day—only three days ago, now—when she had come inside from her field chores, and witnessed her drunken father slitting her mother's throat. She didn't want to explain the way he'd pinned her down, and tried to force himself upon her. She didn't want to explain that he tried to kill her, then, because she was the only witness to her mother's murder, but she only escaped because he was too drunk to function properly. She didn't want to explain that all to Jack, who obviously didn't want to know.

She looked back up at Jack, breathing heavily. He looked utterly dumbfounded, as though he'd been smacked again, clearly not having expected such a rant from his simple question. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said meekly. "I didn't mean to tell you all that."

He cleared his throat amusedly. "'S quite alright, love," he told her, "but y' haven't answered me question. Why were you running? Last time I asked, you said someone wanted ye dead." He looked pointedly at her, his body extremely close to hers.

Breathing in his essence, she felt very lightheaded. "Yeah," she sighed, closing her eyes so she could better absorb the feeling of this man beside her. "He… er… my father… was trying to kill me."

Jack moved as though to walk around her to stand on her other side, but paused just behind her. Her pulse was racing, the blood pounding deafeningly in her ears, louder even than the sea slapping on the side of the ship as they moved into deeper, bluer waters. He placed a warm, filthy hand on her shoulder, and she shivered. She didn't see him smirking behind her at her reaction. "How terrible," he commiserated in a husky purr. "I'm sorry to hear such a thing, love. A father trying to off his own daughter? So terrible." His palm slid down her arm, and she suddenly felt his other hand teasing at her waist.

She leapt up at the shocking touch. "Jack!" she cried angrily, pushing him away. "You lecherous bastard!" She felt revolted by his advancement, no matter how handsome the damned pirate really was.

"What did I do?" he yelped in an innocent voice that would have deceived no one.

She scoffed. "Oh, you _are_ good," she snapped. "Getting me to tell you my life story so I can cry on your shoulder and you can comfort me? That's good, Jack. I'm impressed."

"I would never have dreamed of doing such a thing, love!" he assured her unconvincingly. "But now that you mention it, Carla, my dear, I do happen to have a positively _excellent_ shoulder for just such a fortuitous occasion." He winked, and then grinned mischievously at her. "I'll be in me designated cabin, love," he said with a sarcastic bow, "gettin' some shuteye. If y' need me, just knock first. I sometimes sleep naked."

Carlotta's jaw dropped as he promenaded slowly to the captain's quarters. That man was unbelievable! She was absolutely fuming mentally, though her face held nothing but frozen shock. He had tried to take advantage of her, and then not-so-subtly tried to suggest images to her of himself in the nude. That part, she realized shamefully, had worked. She was now attempting frantically to purge her thoughts of the plaguing image of Jack without his clothes on. She failed. Shaking herself out in disgust, she stomped off to another part of the ship, desperate for a distraction from the thoughts that were starting to make her skin grow hot.

The only good thing that had come of her conversation with Jack was that she was no longer feeling so overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, but instead she was simply lost in her shocking and wildly enjoyable fantasies for the rest of the evening.

* * *

**A/N:** LOL My writing cracks me up, sometimes. Thanks for reading, my loves!! I appreciate it!! I appreciate REVIEWS, too!! Just take a moment to tell me what's on your mind!! 


	4. Sleep and Planning

**A/N:** I'm back!! Sorry I stopped writing for a while, but I've got finals this week, meaning loads of stuff to make me want to procrastinate, and therefore write!! 'Cause that's when all my writing gets done, y' know... when I'm procrastinating so I don't have to do my work or study for tests. Woohoo!

So here it is. Chapter four. I'm not happy with it, but hey, I never seem to be happy with 'em, so I'm just giving up and saying aww screw it... it's good enough. XD So here's chapter four, officially declared DONE by its extremely unsatisfied author.

Carla seems like she's got no personality, I know, but it's inevitable. She's never really been given a chance to live much of a life, and as a shy and withdrawn sort of girl, she's got nothing to do but find something to keep her occupied. At the moment, that something is the small amount of work she's got cut out for her as a crewmember aboard a pirate ship. And no, she's not in love with Jack. She doesn't even LIKE Jack. She's just FOND of Jack, as I'm sure just about anyone would be, and she's also a WOMAN WITH EYES, so who can blame her for having lusty feelings and erotic dreams even though she seriously dislikes the guy... hmmm?? Can you blame any woman for that??? No, I didn't think so. As for Carla's bland personality... she's just a bland girl in general. She's very plain, quiet, and compliant, but she's also annoyingly inquisitive, and creative, with a very active imagination.

Thanks for all the reviews, my darlings!! It makes me actually want to keep writing this story, which is so weird to me!!! Thank you SO MUCH!! You're beautiful people, you are.

* * *

Her first night with the crew was not particularly pleasant. Mr. Gibbs had warned the other five that they were to "play as nice as could be expected, or the rest of 'em would be eatin' 'is 'ead on a plate as their next meal. Cap'n's orders. Says 'e won't stand for any rape aboard 'is ship." Carlotta wasn't entirely sure whether or not Gibbs was joking, but decided he wasn't when he then turned to her with a grave expression. "Now, although I've repeatedly reminded Jack 'tis rotten luck to keep a woman on board, no one'll lay a hand on ye, miss," he assured her kindly, "for I've been told to make sure o' tha'." He'd been told? By Jack? She didn't know whether to be glad he wanted to protect her, or to be offended that he thought she couldn't take care of herself. Then again, she reconsidered, looking around at the five new crew members, she probably wouldn't stand much of a chance if any one of them tried to force himself upon her. She blinked away the images of their bulky figures crawling over hers, grinning their crooked teeth in her face as they pressed themselves against her and she screamed for mercy, but none was shown. 

She gulped, wishing she didn't have such a vividly active imagination.

Though the entire crew was passed out from an overload of rum, save for whomever's shift it was to man the decks and steer at the helm, she felt exceedingly uncomfortable in the forecastle with the slumped, snoring male bodies. She pressed herself against the wall closest to the door, so she'd be able to run if the need were to arise. True, there was a spare hammock she could have lain in, but she feared too much for her security to trust the men not to take advantage of her lying in a hammock. Sitting upright against a wall, she at least felt slightly safer.

Her clothes were itching. When she'd been alone in the captain's cabin, she had been able to change into her old bodice to sleep, but here, she would have been too embarrassed. That left her to the sailor's outfit she currently donned, which was thick and uncomfortable. Even though it was stiflingly hot, she'd been too nervous to sit here with six strange men in nothing but her thin shirt, doublet, and breeches, so she'd replaced the waistcoat.

The place was certainly clean enough, for the merchants who'd previously operated this ship had clearly been a bunch of tidy fellows. But even still, the stench of rum lingered in the air from the heaving breaths of the sleeping crew, and she, herself, felt far more unhygienic than she was at home. True enough, bathing had been a rare indulgence, but she had always been able to clean her teeth back home. This was her home now, though, she supposed, and she was probably going to have to wait an excruciatingly long time before she could ever clean herself again.

Her eyelids had still not flickered closed by the time the sun was rising. Accepting defeat, she stumbled blearily onto the forecastle deck, and then hobbled across the main deck towards the back of the ship where she could be alone, and maybe watch the sun come up. She was certainly much freer this way than she ever was back in Santiago, trapped inside the house or out on the fields, and never free to roam where she pleased. She smiled happily out at the horizon, shaking off the waistcoat once more. It really was too hot for that, and now she was away from the dangerous presence of strange men, she felt safe to remove it. She took off her doublet, as well, so she wore only the washed out linen shirt with her breeches and belt. She felt quite exposed, but it was dark, and no one was watching her, now. The dawn's breeze felt fabulous on the bare skin of her chest that was uncovered at the loose neck of her shirt. She shuddered at its cool touch. It was a strangely intimate caress, though it was only air. It was as if nature was its own person, embracing her in its inviting arms.

"Awake early, darlin'?" came a familiar and irritating voice from behind her.

She sighed heavily, looking down at her hands. "I didn't sleep," she admitted reluctantly. She wasn't keen on sharing much with him again, after what he'd tried to do last evening.

"At all, love?" he inquired, drumming his knuckles on the railing beside her, squinting into the oncoming sunrise. The golden glow lit up his gruff face, delicately painting his sharp features as though with sfumato—he appeared slightly blurry and soft around the edges, but then, that might have been because she was too tired to see properly.

She shook her head. "No, not at all."

"Now, why would you go depriving yourself of a good night's sleep, after you were so quick to reprimand _me_ for the very same?" he asked her with a laugh in his tone. "That's hypocrisy, my dear."

Carlotta ignored him. "I hope you got some sleep this time, Captain," she said, returning to the old formalities.

"I did," he told her with a gracious nod. "I'm up now to go rouse the rest o' the crew. I know it's early, but 'tis better to get a good start in the mornin'."

"Is that so?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes at him.

"It is, love," he said. "When it was jus' you an' me, I let ye sleep out, but I'm not quite as generous with the rest o' me crew, y'know. They're hardly as delicate as you." He reached out his rough hand to touch her cheek, but she pulled away. He was smirking.

"That was gentlemanly of you," she admitting, disregarding his greedy movement.

He snorted resentfully. "I'm like that quite often," he grumbled, "yet women are always so surprised by it."

She smiled wryly. "Is that really any shock?" she asked him scathingly, glaring at him in a way that told him she had not forgotten his advancements from the night before. Jack gritted his teeth as though she'd smacked him for the second time. "I mean, do you try to seduce absolutely every single woman that ever crosses your path? Is that just some sort of bad habit on your part?"

Jack grinned awkwardly, tapping his pistol with a ringed finger. "'Fraid so, Carla m' dear," he admitted, swaying flamboyantly. "But she doesn't have to be single for me to go at it. I can't help it. 'S like an unstoppable reflex in response to the enchanting female presence." His eyes flitted to her chest, but when she noticed this and crossed her arms to cover herself up, he sniggered.

"And you never considered trusting one woman just enough to settle down, and stop being such a…?"

"Such a _what_, exactly? Such a _pirate_? I _is_ a pirate, lass," he reminded her warningly in a low, growling tone that sent chills down her spine. "Pirates don't 'settle.' We're always venturin' for another conquest of some sort." He grinned toothily at her, and she wondered vaguely when he had last cleaned his teeth. "Besides," he added, "the last woman I trusted for even a second ended up bein' the only one ever to succeed in killin' me."

Carlotta gasped, her eyes growing wide. "She… _what_?"

"Aye, love. With our one and only kiss she sent me straight to Davy Jones' Locker. Brought me back, alright, bu' that don't mean I can't still be bitter about me own death, whether or not I _was_ revived."

"So you… loved her?" she asked breathlessly. What a story this man had! She wasn't so sure she believed him, but it was drama enough to have her captivated by his every word.

"Who? Elizabeth?" He gave a derisive laugh. "Don't make me ill, darlin'," he said shortly. "I just put too much trust in that damned she-devil, expectin' her to be as dependable as she made herself out to be. And for once I'll admit…" His eyes darkened, and he glared at his boots. "I was very, _very_ wrong, and that one, tiny mistake led to me horrific and apparently rather untimely death." His expression was vicious, and she trembled as he turned on her again. "Now, if you'll 'scuse me, sweetheart," he said gruffly, "I'll just be wakin' the crew, then." As he passed her, he patted her disheveled hair in an affectionate way that might have even been considered fatherly by some. She watched him go with a feeling of uncertainty growing within her. The white sunlight finally spilling across the deck made Jack's sweat-coated flesh shine a deep, rich bronze. She swallowed, looking away from him. Why did such an infuriating man have to be so frustratingly handsome, and have such an enthralling past?

She began to wonder uncontrollably about the approximate number of female thighs that the famous Captain Jack Sparrow had pried apart, and the number of virgins he'd undoubtedly corrupted. But when she could not decide on even a vague range, she assumed it was probably best that she didn't know, anyway. She shook her head disgustedly and cleared her throat in an attempt to rid her mind of the sudden images haunting her.

"On deck, lads!" Jack shouted authoritatively in the general direction of the forecastle. "Come on, move it!" The five men within burst forth from the cabin as though there'd been a fire lit beneath them. They were all scrambling forward desperately, some hurriedly shoving boots back on their feet, and many yanking on their shirts.

"'S so early, cap'n," Mr. Gibbs grunted from the helm, looking sleepy. "What's all the hurry?"

Jack glared at him. "Master Gibbs, you know full well what we're headin' for, and that's requirin' an early start, today." He looked around at the rest of them. "Well, to your stations, ye squiffy waisters! Have at it! We're catchin' up!"

Carlotta rushed towards him at a jog. Her boots clunked hollowly on the wood, and he turned to face her at their echoing sound. "Are we really catching up to the _Pearl_, Captain?" she asked, her face red in anticipation.

He stared intently into her excitement-filled eyes. "We're certainly on a set course," he assured her with a grin. "And that looks good by all accounts." His gaze traveled over her entire face, and his grin dropped slightly. "Why don't y' get yourself a bit o' more rest," he suggested, "then I can come an' get you when we're close. Ye're not needed s' much, now, what with our rather grungy new shipmates committed to us. They'll be all the necessary help, I assure ye, miss."

She raised her eyebrows. "'_Miss_?'" she repeated incredulously. "You're telling me to get rest? _Politely_? Why?"

"Well if you won't take the sleep you're offered, you'll do as you're told along with the others," he snarled. "Now off with ye!" He waved her towards the rest of the crew, and marched up to the helm to take over for Gibbs. He flipped his compass open, staring hungrily at it, and Carlotta couldn't help shudder at his crazed expression. Mr. Gibbs barked strict orders to her while looking extremely apprehensive, and she followed them silently.

Her work was very poor. Most often, she needed assistance in the duties she was assigned, and on the occasion that she completed a task on her own, it would have to be redone. What strength she had was failing her today, for exhaustion had lowered her ability to concentrate, and made her weak. She was yawning heavily for hours, before someone finally yelled at her to get her head back onto her shoulders. She curtsied slightly without thinking as an impulsive response, and the man laughed at her. Scowling, she decided it was probably best that she did get some extra rest before they caught up with Jack's precious _Pearl_. She stumbled groggily to the forecastle, wishing she wasn't as paranoid as she was so that she could have slept better last night. She collapsed into the gently rocking hammock with a gracious sigh. Oh, what she wouldn't give for her bed back in Santiago, now… or even the bed in the captain's quarters. She wouldn't even have minded that. But for now, this was all she had, and she sunk gladly into its snug curves, feeling herself nodding off already.

* * *

"Miss Carlotta!" a voice was calling. Its tone was deep and sharp, and it terrified her. She sat up so fast that she tilted the hammock, and moments later, her face connected with the rough wood floor. 

She groaned. "What?" she asked wildly. Her head was spinning, and her lower belly pulsing as though she'd just awoken from an erotic dream she could not remember. Looking around confusedly, she saw Mr. Gibbs staring at her curiously.

"You're wanted by the cap'n," he informed her. "He's sent me to wake ye."

"Thank you, sir," she replied sweetly with a watery smile. The side of her head was throbbing with pain from her collision with the floor. She rubbed it gingerly as she stood, wondering why Jack could never get her name right when his first mate certainly could, and followed Gibbs from the forecastle. The sun was blazing hot again, far past sunrise. She had clearly been sleeping a while.

Jack stood imposingly at the helm, his face aglow with sunlight. She cleared her throat to make her presence known, and he glanced quickly around. "Ah!" he exclaimed at the sight of her. "Carla!" he sauntered arrogantly down to her, a smug look on his face. "Just the woman I wanted to see!" His eyes were already at her chest, but she crossed her arms and glared at him with her eyebrows raised, and he quickly returned his gaze to her face. "Y' aren't intendin' to betray me, are you, love?"

She was taken aback. "Er… no," she said cautiously. "Why? Is this a trick question?"

The pirate captain smirked. "No, dearie, but I'm thinkin' y' might be of some use to me cause."

Her expression contorted with confusion, and the side of her head that had broken her fall from the hammock throbbed in angry protest. "…How?" she inquired. "What cause?"

"Gettin' the _Pearl_ back, darlin'," he droned impatiently. "Y' see, once we get to 'er, I'll be needin' a bit of assistance from ye."

Anxiety built rapidly within her. "Er… well… what's your plan, so far?" Jack was such a drunken madman, she wasn't sure she trusted following any plan he'd devised.

He grinned at her. "The two ships'll meet," he began excitedly, "and I'll invoke parlay for us and the rest of the crew. Barbossa and I'll 'ave a good, long chat over me terms, which'll include maroonin' 'im on an island with nothin' save for a pistol with one shot, just like 'e did to me." His lip curled. "Y'know, I tried to mutiny against 'im, too, after that, but he jus' locked me in the brig an' marooned me for yet a second time. I don't expect him to go quietly this time, either," he admitted bitterly, "but if I can know that the charts are… _well hidden_… I might feel better with that on me advantage. I know 'e won't comply to bein' marooned, but if we can 'old off on tellin' 'im where the charts be for just long enough 'e won't dare do us harm, for fear of never knowin' where they are. Then soon into the voyage, I can lead the rest o' his crew to a mutiny against the bloody bastard."

Carlotta smiled slightly. "I get the feeling you don't like Barbossa very much."

Jack smirked. "Not very much, no," he admitted. "Though he did help in bringin' me back durin' that little time when I was dead."

"He did?"

"Aye, but only so as to could accomplish 'is own ends," he grunted irritably. "An' Elizabeth helped 'cause she felt too damned guilty to let me stay dead. An' her good, great, pure, noble William only helped because he wanted to steal me _Pearl_, which 'ad been trapped in Davy Jones' Locker with me. You'd think I wasn't likeable." Though his voice held an edge of sarcasm, his smile was dry, and it didn't hide the scowl hovering around his dark features.

For a moment, she didn't know what to say to this, but eventually she decided it wasn't worth a response. "So, how do I fit into your brilliant plan, Captain?" she asked cautiously.

He smiled more genuinely at the sound of his title. "You'll be playin' me well hidden hiding place, m' dear Carla," he slurred, leaning very close to her so that those dark, heavily kohl-lined, narrow eyes were exactly level with hers. "Savvy?" She shook her head, feeling her heart rate increase dramatically with his face this near to her own. "You keep the charts on your person. S' long as you keep up a guise of a man, and hold your bleedin' tongue, he won't pick you out of the crowd as anyone suspicious. He'll think it's somewhere aboard our ship, now won't he? Who'd expect it's in the possession of a scrawny crewmember, eh?"

She wrinkled her nose. His breath was absolutely putrid as he grinned maniacally into her face, and she nearly gagged. "When was the last time you cleaned your teeth, I wonder?" she asked him in a rather choked voice.

He made a sound of indignation, and pivoted on his heel away from her for a moment, lifting a cupped hand to his face to breathe into it, and get a whiff of his own stench. He seemed completely unabashed by the smell, however, and turned back to her looking grumpier than before. "That is unrelated," he said in a strangely high tone of voice. "All that matters at the moment is whether or not you're willin' to take part in me plan. So… what d' you say, love?" He stuck out his hand to shake hers, but she didn't take it right away. She could see too many flaws in this so-called plan. He was betting a lot on Barbossa's stupidity, and this was a pirate who had apparently been clever enough to maroon Jack twice, and steal his ship twice. Then again, Jack was a pirate who had escaped all of these death sentences, and even returned from the dead, once… though with Barbossa's assistance. She had no other ideas, though, and she did genuinely want to help Jack get his ship returned to him, now. She'd grown fond of the Captain, and she couldn't resist the urge to keep him happy.

And so, with a shrug, she accepted his offered hand, and shook it. "I'll do it, but you're positively barking mad," she told him bitterly. "What if this doesn't work?"

"My plans _always_ work," he snapped defiantly.

"And you still won't tell me what the Fountain of Youth is, will you?" she asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

"No. You've no need to be informed of that, lass." He made a face at her. She rolled her eyes, and pulled a similarly grotesque expression at him. It made the side of her face pound. She could feel a bruise developing there, and scowled, placing a cautious hand to the sore area. To her surprise, Jack seemed concerned. "What's this, darlin'?" he asked quietly, his voice quiet and hoarse. He reached up to her face, his ringed fingers prying her hand delicately away from her cheek, and lightly brushing his own fingertips along the tender spot. "You're all red, here. What happened?" She stared at him.

She shrugged. "Nothing," she told him curtly, trying to sound unaffected by the feel of his cool fingers hovering directly over the scalding flesh of her face. "I just… fell out of the hammock in the forecastle."

Jack raised his eyebrows in slight amusement, and pressed his hand fully against her cheek. It hurt, and she grimaced, reaching up and clenching a fistful of his shirt without even realizing it. He chuckled. "Having wild dreams, were ye, love?" he growled suggestively, his eyes trailing to her lips, then down to her bosom again. She rolled her eyes, and pulled out of his grasp again, feeling oddly cold when she did so.

"No," she spat icily. She was glaring at him, but she could feel a faint blush creeping treacherously up her cheeks.

He smirked, and gave an indistinct shrug of disappointment. "Well, y' did get some sleep, at least, aye, darlin'?" She nodded, blinking back the tiredness that was still lingering in her eyes. "That's good. And no one tried to do ye no harm?"

"They didn't," she said, her voice cracking. "Doesn't mean they won't."

He laughed lightly. "Carla, m' dear, if you're plannin' on stayin' a pirate, you'd best accustom yourself to sleepin' around men."

"It's Carlotta. And can you blame me for being afraid? I'm just a woman. I've no way to defend myself against any man who might try to…" She broke off, feeling a shudder pass through her bones.

Jack's expression fell to something surprisingly serious. Her face must have displayed her paranoia excellently to make Jack look suddenly so guilty. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and she raised her eyebrows at him. "Y' know, if you ever wanted a different place to sleep," he told her, "you're always welcome to kip in the captain's cabin." He grinned slyly.

She narrowed her eyes at him incredulously. "With _you_, you mean?" she clarified.

"Not… _with_ me, my dear," he explained slowly. "Simply… with me by your side." His grin widened. "I swear I'd ne'er lay a hand on ye, miss," he assured her, sweeping off his hat and holding it to his heart as he raised his left hand. "Pirate's honor."

"Well, I can't imagine a pirate's honor is particularly honorable," she quipped, smiling politely at him. "Thank you for the offer, Captain, but I'd rather sleep on the deck than in an enclosed cabin with you and your wandering hands." Her stomach churned. Though the logical side of her was, indeed, sickened by the very thought of sleeping in the same room as Jack Sparrow, her unhelpful side was grossly imagining those rough hands sliding all over her body. She coughed to rid herself of the picture. It didn't work, so she resigned herself to stomping off towards the opposite end of the ship.

She hoped they reached the _Black Pearl_ soon. Surely a bit of adventure would take her mind off the frustratingly attractive Captain Jack Sparrow… at least for a little while, anyway.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading, my lovelies!! I hope you enjoyed it!! Sorry for the annoying shortness of it. I'm just sorta... stalling on writing the confrontation with the _Pearl_. I don't do action sequences, so I have NO idea how I'm gonna do this. Should be an interesting experiment, though, aye?? ...Eek. 


	5. The Confrontation

**A/N:** REST IN PEACE, Heath Ledger: a handsome, likeable young actor with charming screen presence, enormous talent, and a vast array of possibilities in his future that have all been crushed, now, by his tragic, early death. He was so young. Only twenty-eight. Such a horrible, horrible shame. It really is. God, I loved that man so much. This is a serious loss. I think I'm gonna cry. Oh no. Waaah!!

And on a lighter note, here's the next chapter at last!! I've finally tried my hand at ACTION and ADVENTURE. Wooooooo, scary. I don't think I did a very good job, but I did try, so bear with me, if you can handle it. I also haven't looked back over this chapter to edit it, yet, so if you find any corrections I should make, please let me know!! Thanks!!

Again, thanks for all your lovely, kind reviews!! Do enjoy the chapter, now!!

* * *

Dropping her arms to give her throbbing muscles a rest, she looked away from her completed task. Her gaze scanned the horizon line. The grey sky was a blur of clouds and mist, the waters were a deep green, and the salty breeze was hot, like the breath of some monstrous beast on her skin. She placed her hands on her hips and squinted into the hazy distance. Sweat was rolling down her cheeks and the back of her neck as though she'd been doused in it. She felt disgusting. This was her price, she supposed, for her rash decision to escape with a pirate from Santiago. A small, pleased smile tugged at her thin lips. It had been worth it. 

Her stare had become fixed without even realizing it. She had focused her eyes upon a pinprick gliding along the horizon, but had been so caught up in her grateful thoughts that she had not noticed what she was seeing. There was another ship in their path—far away, it was for now, but as she stared longer, its tiny black contour began to swell. The ship was approaching them. Her heart leapt. Was this it? Was this the _Black Pearl_ she'd heard so much about over the last several days?

She swallowed, and opened her lungs to take a deep breath. "Captain!" she cried. "Jack!" She continued to watch the tiny dot develop a more distinct shape as it grew steadily larger. It had enormous sails, and its dark silhouette was ominous against the misty skyline, like a hallucination. She shivered at the vision.

Jack's footsteps were bouncy and excited as they approached her. He arrived at her side very quickly, and as she didn't know exactly what to say, she just pointed. Following her gaze, he waltzed enthusiastically to the side rail, and whipped out his telescope. Carlotta watched him apprehensively. The grin sliding onto Jack's features was maniacal, and the way his breathing grew suddenly heavy frightened her slightly. He was sighing like a wounded lover, gazing longingly into his instrument as though watching his greatest love draw near. Carlotta took a few tentative steps closer to him. "Jack?" she asked. "Is it the _Pearl_?" He did not answer. "Jack, is this it? Have we finally found it?"

He lowered his telescope slowly from his face. She stared at him. He was grinning, and his eyes were sparkling with desire. It made Carlotta's stomach turn within her, and she felt a very sudden need to lie down. "Jack?" she questioned him again, and at last, he turned to her. Those heavily lidded eyes were like endless dark tunnels as they stared at her. She gulped.

"Aye," he growled, allowing himself a glance at her lips before holding his intimidating glare at her eyes. "We've found 'er."

Carlotta didn't know what to say to that, so she kept silent, though her mind was exploding with possible questions. Beneath that incriminating stare, however, she didn't think it was best to bombard her captain with her inquisitiveness, now—not when he was so close to finally getting his beloved ship back. She tore her gaze away from Jack's, and looked back at the distant _Pearl_. She wondered vaguely if Jack had ever loved anyone the way he loved that ship. The thought made her heart clench, and a small pain erupted beneath her ribs that provoked an involuntary movement from her arm so she clutched at her aching chest without noticing what she was doing. Rubbing the place over her heart, she cleared her throat, and in a moment, the pain had subsided. She shook her head, and moved to get away from her captain, but his hand captured her arm so she could not budge. "What is it, sir—I mean, Captain?" she questioned lightly.

He dug his spare hand beneath his sash and into the leg of his breeches, making Carlotta feel suddenly awkward. When he withdrew his hand, however, she saw that his fist was clenched around a fascinatingly paneled scroll. He held it out for her, his black eyes twinkling. She reached forward, and took the end that was offered to her, but Jack still held fast to his end. "These," he said mysteriously, "are the navigational charts. They contain the path to the Fountain of Youth."

Her question tumbled from her lips before she could stop it. "I can't help wondering, Captain, why you're wasting so much time trying to get the _Black Pearl_, when you've already got another ship, and maps to something that sounds far more spectacular than your _Pearl_. If you've already got the charts, why not go find the Fountain of Youth without the _Black Pearl_?" A moment of silence rang between them, and Carlotta's face flushed violently hot. "I'm sorry, sir," she whispered, looking down at Jack's tight hold on her arm. His knuckles were pale, and his fingers were shaking. The spot he had clutched in his grasp was very red, and her arm was starting to tingle with developing numbness.

"The _Black Pearl_," he grunted protectively, "is me only love. It's true—I could go after the Fountain without me _Pearl_, but if there be… defenses… or barriers… that need be crossed or defeated to reach our goal, I've an all-around better feelin' that the _Pearl_ could withstand any hardships better than this pathetic pipsqueak of a vessel. She's the grandest ship in all the seas, love," he said, his grasp on her arm loosening slightly again. She looked back up at him, and saw an expression of deepest adoration cross his features. It made her insides grow warm to witness it. "All I want is to 'ave 'er back in me possession. Then I can go back to bein' greedy for the Fountain of Youth in peace."

Carlotta tugged slightly on the charts to bring Jack back down to earth. "So… you want me to take the charts, do you?" she asked, returning him to his original speech.

"Aye," he said snapping back to reality, "that's right… the charts. These are the most sacred charts. You're to keep 'em well hidden, y' hear? Somewhere…" He glanced down at Carlotta's legs. "…unlikely," he finished with a leering grin.

Her lips twitched. "…Down my breeches, you mean?"

"Oh, now, darlin'," he hissed. "Don't get me thinkin' 'bout what's down your breeches. Ye'll tease me 'alf to death, y' will."

She turned a vibrant shade of pink, and rolled her eyes as though to cover her embarrassment. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to say something witty or suggestive, but couldn't think of anything, and didn't want to be rude, so she just ignored him, instead. "Alright, I'll hide them," she said with a compliant sigh. "But…" she bit her lip, trying not to voice the worry she'd been suppressing.

"'But' _what_, darlin'?"

"Well… what if we have to fight?" she asked slowly with a sigh. "I… I can't defend myself. I've never… Well, I've never handled a sword, and I've never even _tried_ to fire a pistol."

Jack chuckled softly. "Don' you worry 'bout that, missy," he snarled amusedly, his gold teeth showing as he jeered at her. "If it should somehow come down to it, I swear on pain of death to protect y' from anything life-threatenin'. Sound good, pet?"

She was feeling increasingly anxious about the whole thing, but shrugged anyway. "Sure," she said, not trusting his oath in the slightest. "Whatever."

"Good," he said, finally letting go of her arm, which had become very sore, by then. "Then we have an accord, do we?" He held the hand out still, meaning for her to shake it. After just a moment's hesitation, she clasped her palm to his, and he gave her whole arm one strong shake before letting go of both her and the charts. She clutched the rolled up map to her chest. Jack gave her a meaningful look. "Hide them good and proper," he snarled. "Make sure they're invisible to anyone who looks at ye."

"Ah… sure…" she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand as nervous sweat gathered there. "Am I allowed weapons?" she asked quickly. She was feeling suddenly very powerless, knowing that she had no means of self-defense, yet she was about to stand before a whole ship of angry pirates—who, no doubt, had all manner of swords and guns on their persons.

He smiled. "I'll give you something you can use," Jack told her, patting her shoulder as he swayed passed her towards the helm to speak with Gibbs. She nodded vaguely at his back, watching his attractive figure sashay off and away from her, his arms swinging from his body as though he had no control over their flamboyancy.

Jack began ordering the crew about, shouting madly that they were fast approaching a very dangerous ship, and he needed everyone in their positions. He whispered something to Gibbs, and the two shared a knowing, excited glance, before Jack scuttled off and vanished below deck. Carlotta was just starting to think about where on her person to keep the charts, when a minute later, Jack returned, shoving a cutlass, a pistol, and a dagger in her face. "What… what am I to do with these?" she asked, her voice rather high pitched for fear of using the weapons wrongly.

"This," Jack stated matter-of-factly, as though speaking to a three-year-old, "is a cutlass. It's used for stabbin' people. This is a dagger. Another stabbing thing. This is a pistol. You pull the trigger, it makes a loud noise, and someone drops dead. Think you can handle it?" Carlotta glared at him. She did not appreciate being treated like a damned ignoramus. It was not her fault that no one had ever taught her how to use a sword or a firearm. He seemed to take her glare as an agreeable gesture, however, and smiled. Kneeling, he loosened her right boot. The sudden feel of his hot fingertips against the burning skin of her ankle shocked her, and she kicked out involuntarily, nearly breaking Jack's nose.

"Sorry!" she said quickly, clapping her hand over her face in embarrassment.

"Bloody hell, woman," he growled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm only helpin' ye." He proceeded to shove the dagger into the depths of her boot, and lace it back up. He stuck the pistol in an empty pouch that was a part of her belt, and slid the cutlass through one of the belt's loops. As he did all this, Carlotta kept her eyes on the sky. If she looked down, she thought she would probably explode at the sight of Jack on his knees before her, his face level with her hips. She did not see him glance up at her, and grin at the sight of her pink cheeks and awkward expression. His hands slipped around her waist, very close to her backside, and he pressed himself alarmingly close to her pelvis, teasing her on purpose. Her eyes shut against her will, and her lips parted in an impulsive sigh. The place between her thighs was extremely hot, and shockingly damp. He chuckled. "Having wicked thoughts about this unhelpfully suggestive position, are we?" he teased. "I know _I_ am."

She snapped her eyes open again with a gasp, and smacked him sharply on the side of his head. He stumbled backwards, and rolled onto the deck, holding himself up by his elbows. "N—no!" she said defensively. "And how _dare_ you think of me like that?"

"How could I _not_ think it, darlin'? You're a woman. It's my duty to think such blasphemy about women's bodies." he laughed. He pushed himself up into a standing position again, and glared down at Carlotta, looking ominously seductive. "Now, don't tell me you didn't… _deep_ly enjoy the sight of me on my knees." He smirked, his teeth sparkling at her. She bit her lip. She had nothing to say to that. She hadn't… _enjoyed_ it, necessarily… but she couldn't deny that it had certainly been… _arousing_. Jack scoffed at her silence. "Thought so," he said huskily, before stepping away and swaggering haughtily back up toward the helm as he shouted some more orders to Gibbs.

It took Carlotta several minutes to regain her sanity. When Jack was that close to her, she felt such a violent confliction of emotions inside of her. A large portion of her reason was telling her to stop feeling such lust for a man. It reminded her of the day she'd escaped Santiago, and what had taken place merely an hour before she'd run into Captain Jack. She closed her eyes, and the images flew back to haunt her—her father's big, red face above her, his mouth on her neck, and his hands lifting her skirt. She felt suddenly nauseous, and her eyes fluttered open again as she swallowed away the memory. She was still a virgin—though her purity had come so close to being destroyed, that day—and after that sickening experience, she hoped to stay one for a very, very long time. Perhaps forever, even. Men infuriated and terrified her. She didn't ever want a man to touch her, for fear that he would take advantage of her compliant nature. But then there was Jack. He had been thrown into her life at the very moment she'd sworn to stay away from the male gender. There he was, a spectacularly brilliant seducer of women, and a generous means of escaping her secluded life with a father she hated. She wondered, sometimes, if it had been fate. Had God crossed hers and Jack's paths intentionally, to mock her decision to swear off men by purposefully presenting her with one who had a celebrated talent for seduction? If this was the case, she was angry at God for it. She wanted to simply hate the males of the world in peace. Why couldn't he let her get on with it? Why did Jack have to be so attractive? Why did she have to be so weak?

Trying to focus on something other than her tormenting and confusing thoughts, she looked down at the charts in her hand, then back up at the _Black Pearl_, which was growing steadily larger every second. She had to hide these maps, she reminded herself, glancing around her body as though hoping she would instinctually know where to put them. After a good, long minute, she realized she was not wearing her waistcoat, and that could be a useful aid in hiding a bulge in her outfit. She stuck the rolled up charts into the leg of her breeches like Jack had done, and she repositioned the cutlass he'd given her so that the protuberance in the fabric of her breeches was not easily noticeable. Throwing on her waistcoat for effect, she looked down at herself. She could see nothing.

With a satisfied smile, she bundled up her hair in a knot on her head. She held it in place with one hand while she hunted about for a sailor's cap to make her look more masculine. Finally, she found one tucked away in the captain's quarters, and stuck it onto her head. Though curls were still spilling wildly around her face, she did not appear to have a head of feminine hair. She was swelteringly hot in the hat and waistcoat, but she ignored the heat, and simply watched the Pearl approach. Her heart was hammering with excited and nervous apprehension. She bit her lip and bounced up and down slightly on the balls of her feet, watching the ship roll gracefully toward them. The thing was truly monumental. Black and haunting in appearance, it looked just the way she thought a pirate ship should look. The sea water at its base was slapping audibly against its creaking wood, and she shivered at the foreboding image.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump, and she turned to face its owner. Jack was glaring hungrily at the steadily nearing ship, his mouth twisted in a dark grin. "Ready?" he asked. She did not answer, but watched the _Black Pearl_'s advancement as though transfixed.

It drew closer, and her heart beat faster with every inch it made towards them. She could see people on the _Pearl_'s deck, moving about, performing their tasks, gesturing, and shouting to one another. She watched them nervously. A dark, ominous looking man stood imposingly at the ship's helm. The man's large hat cast his face into shadow. She assumed this was the captain—_Barbossa_, she supposed it was.

Making a shooing gesture towards Carlotta that she did not respond to, Jack swept off his own hat, and began waving down the _Black Pearl_. "Oy!" he shouted. "Barbossa! Look who caught up, you filthy, mangy cur!"

The stiff form on the Black Pearl's helm shifted irritably, and an animal on its shoulder began to shriek. Barbossa had a monkey with him, Carlotta realized. The man traveled down to the main deck just as the two ships fell side by side, and slid into a smooth halt. Carlotta cleared her throat quietly beside Jack. "Is it really a good idea to be calling the man names, Jack?" she asked him in a hoarse, terrified whisper. He ignored her, glaring with a falsely cheery smile at the man on the ship across the way.

"Hey, Barbossa! Knew I'd catch up t' ye eventually, and now I 'ave!"

Barbossa was a frightening sort of man. His wild hair and beard gave him an air of trivial unconcern, while his vicious eyes seemed to emanate a sense of ruthlessness. The hat made him a bit ridiculous, but at the same time, it added to his threatening demeanor. The screaming monkey bouncing up and down on his shoulder was an odd touch to the peculiarity of his character. The man grinned crookedly, his yellowing eyes squinted mockingly. "Took ye longer than I'd 'ave thought it would, Jack." The monkey fell quiet, and began fingering a torn section of Barbossa's waistcoat.

One of the crew, a tall, thin man with a wooden eye, pointed excitedly over the side of the _Black Pearl_ at Jack. "It's Cap'n Jack!" he exclaimed to his shorter friend, and Barbossa shot them both an annoyed glare.

Jack smirked. "Would ha' been quicker if I'd known y' were so anxious t' see me again, Hector."

"T' see _you_? Now, Jack, why would y' ever think I'd care to see _you_?" He smiled maliciously, and nodded to a few of his crewmen, who began scuffling about to set up the gangplank. "Ye've got somethin' o' mine, Jack, 'n' if y' don't care to be blown to smithereens, ye'll hand it o'er, and I'll let ye sail away, unharmed."

"Somehow I doubt that even if I was to hand over the charts, ye'd leave me unharmed."

The clunk of the gangplank as its end slammed onto the smaller ship made Carlotta jump. Jack glanced quickly at it, his expression apprehensive, before looking back at Barbossa. "Ye're right about that," the bulky pirate confirmed.

"That's not much incentive for me to 'and 'em over, then, is it?" Jack said lazily, raising his eyebrows unconcernedly at Barbossa, who just shook his head.

"Jack," he said in his low, rumbling drawl, "how many times need I remind ye? Men are easier t' search when they're dead."

Jack's hands shot into the air in a rapid motion of surrender. "Now, now, Hector, there's hardly a need for us t' be dead when ye search us! Why kill a yieldin' man, eh?"

Barbossa's smile was sour, and Carlotta felt ill to witness it. "By the gods, ye're right. We've no need t' be killin' ye. Gents," he added, speaking his crew in a louder, more commanding voice, "y'all know what we be searchin' for, aye?" The crew gave a hearty cry of understanding, sick grins on most of their faces, and they bounded threateningly across the gangplank onto the smaller ship. Carlotta watched them come, fear striking her motionless as she gripped the side rail helplessly. Jack turned, watching as Barbossa crossed the plank as well, his boots echoing sinisterly on the wood as he made his daunting way onto their ship. When his feet hit the deck with a frightening crash, and his monkey fled from his shoulder to return to the _Pearl_, Carlotta shuddered, and Jack moved subtly in front of her, one of his arms pushing her back—almost protectively. For a moment, her heart leapt in gratitude, but the next second, she remembered she was carrying the navigational charts. He was protecting them, not her. She grumbled silently as she watched Jack saunter carelessly to where Barbossa stood, looking murderous.

"Barbossa, you slimy git," he said in a suave and unconcerned tone of voice, "you may search the ship if you will, but ye'll never find the damned charts. I'm afraid the only way I'd ever be willing to tell ye where I've 'idden 'em is if you grant me full rights as captain aboard the _Black Pearl_ again."

Barbossa grinned, showing a large number of his crooked, yellowed, and broken teeth. The stench of him had reached Carlotta's nostrils already, though she stood several yards away. "I'm sorry, Jack," he sneered, "but I'll not be givin' ye the right to anythin' aboard _my_ ship."

"_My_ ship," Jack countered determinedly, bouncing on his heels and waving his arms about like a gaudy madman. "And why not?"

"'S _my_ ship, y' lunatic," Barbossa disagreed. "And _why_ won't I give ye anythin', you ask? Because I don't like you, and it's _my_ ship, and I'm pretty sure that if I search hard enough, I'll find those charts eventually. If not, I can simply kill y' all, and search every last one o' ye 'till I find it. I know ye too well, Jack; ye're not the sort to keep such a treasure far from ye, like… on land, say… so it's got to be on board 'ere, somewhere. I'll find it, whether you're dead or alive to see it, and once I do, I'll be killin' ye anyway, so in any scenario, y' end up dead, in the end." He laughed horribly, before pointing to a few of his crewmembers, and barking at them to start ransacking the ship in search of the charts. Carlotta's insides felt like ice. The picture she'd envisioned once before of Jack falling lifelessly to the ground returned to her imagination, but this time, Barbossa's face was laughing cruelly in the background of the image. The thought terrified her. Jack was going to die, and so was she. For a moment, she thought of negotiating with Barbossa—their lives for the charts—before she remembered that the man was a pirate, and would almost certainly never honor a bargain.

As several crewmen went off to begin a thorough search of the ship, Barbossa instructed one other to start searching Jack's crew. Of course, the moment Barbossa's lackey approached the man he was told to search, the latter dove his hand into his coat, withdrew his pistol, and shot the former point-blank in the center of his forehead. It was all Carlotta could do to hold her tongue and not scream, or jump overboard in shock as the body fell swiftly to the deck with a gaping, bloody hole in his head.

Within an instant, things all went wrong. There was a terrible, reverberating click, and a rustling movement, and suddenly Barbossa and Jack were both pointing their pistols at one another. "This time we be not two immortals fore'er doomed to battle," Barbossa growled, "but two men, each with the pow'r and motive to shoot the other." Carlotta's heart was racing, and her chest was heaving with anticipation and fear, but Jack looked utterly calm and composed, his finger resting languidly on the trigger as though it were _not_ a situation in which his life was on the line.

"I suppose we're both trapped, mate," Jack said coolly. "Are you to back down first, then, or am I?" He smiled sarcastically at Barbossa, whose eyes were fixed persistently on Jack's. Carlotta watched Jack's bejeweled fingers slip stealthily beneath his waistcoat. Unable to see what he was reaching for, she looked quickly back at Barbossa to check if he'd seen Jack's movement. He had not. Excitement flooded her as she sensed the oncoming of a hateful battle. She could feel it in the air around them, the way one often feels that distinct coldness in the atmosphere just before a storm.

With a clang, a grunt, and a hurried altercation that Carlotta never saw, Barbossa's and Jack's pistols went flying across the deck. Swords had been drawn, and the two blades were already crossed. Each was glaring pure abhorrence at the other.

Swords all around were suddenly being unsheathed, and the air was bursting with the swishes and clinks of skilled fighting. Their five recently acquired men were all being easily oppressed, while Mr. Gibbs chatted lazily with a midget a little way off. They seemed to be discussing the battle with bemused interest. Carlotta ducked instinctively as a pair of swordfighters stumbled towards her, and she ran fearfully to Gibbs and the midget. "Miss Carlotta!" Mr. Gibbs exclaimed at the sight of her. The midget raised his eyebrows at her incredulously, as though disbelieving that she was a woman.

"I… can't… swordfight," she panted at him guiltily. "I've never learned how."

"Can't fight?" the midget croaked. "What's she doin' with Cap'n Jack, then?"

Gibbs shrugged. "The cap'n felt bad for 'er, I s'pose," he said.

"That's not true," she said defiantly as the body of one of their crewmembers rolled passed them. "I needed a passage off my homeland, and Jack was kind enough to give me one."

"Always fair, our Cap'n Jack," the midget said, gazing wistfully at the battle. Gibbs and Carlotta watched it, too. Jack was fighting gallantly, his hair flowing wildly behind him with every deft lunge and swing. The expression on his face was serious and crazed, painted with deep shadows and intense, bronze highlights as the evening drew nearer. His flesh was glossy with sweat, and he appeared to shine in the dreary sunlight. He was so graceful, and his limbs moved effortlessly, though his muscles were tense, and his poise was stiff and concentrated. Carlotta fell into an odd stupor as she watched Jack fight as though he were a machine made specifically for this purpose. It was a riveting scene, and she could not tear her shining eyes from it.

"Marty!" a harsh voice shouted. One of Barbossa's crewmen was shouting at the midget, who leapt up at once. "What're you doin'? Gossipin' with th' enemy?" He leered toothily at Gibbs and Carlotta.

The midget, Marty, waved the man off. "They're not the enemy."

"They're with Sparrow," the other spat. "That makes 'em the enemy." With a roar, he raised his sword high above him, and lunged at Carlotta. The blade twinkled alarmingly in the sun for a moment, and as it came rushing down towards her, she closed her eyes and ducked with a girlish squeal, waiting for the end to come. She heard a scuffle somewhere above her instead, and opened her eyes again to find Gibbs shoving the man away with his own drawn sword.

"Go!" Gibbs commanded. Sweat was dripping down his brow as he continued to fight off her attacker, and she didn't dare disobey him. She ran. She didn't quite know where to run, but she ran anyway, trying to get anywhere that was far from anyone who might try to kill her. She weaved her path to the other end of the ship, hoping to be safer there, and for a moment, she thought she was. From behind some rigging, however, a man emerged with his sword raised in one fist, and his dagger clutched threateningly in the other. He cackled cruelly at her terrified shriek, and when she ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction, he followed her gleefully. She had accidentally returned to the immediate battleground, and groaned impatiently when she realized she was surrounded by the battling pirates again. All she wanted was to be removed from all this fighting.

Terrified, she could not focus on her running, and her pursuer snuck up behind her as she took a moment to pause. The dagger pierced the back of her shoulder, and she screamed in agony as the hot blood began to soak through her layers of clothing, and stain her flesh. The pirate chuckled as he slowly—torturously—removed the blade from within her. It slid from her with a nasty squelching sound, and the blood gushed more profusely once the wound was free of its lethal plug. She coughed a single time, and fell face forward onto the deck. She felt dizzy, and painfully numb all over. It was a very strange, disorienting feeling, and she didn't fully understand what was going on around her.

Heavy footsteps were extremely close by. She could see their faded grey-brown leather, and recognized them immediately. _Jack_, she tried to call out, but all that escaped her lips was a faint gurgle. His knees came suddenly into view, and the echoing _thud_ that reached her ears as they collided with the wooden deck beside her made her head throb. "No, Carla," Jack's distant voice begged. "Ye'll be alright, damn it!" It was as though she were hearing him from beyond a thick veil. She strained her ears, trying to listen, but it hurt her head further. An unfamiliar pair of boots marched stridently up behind Jack's kneeling figure.

"Ah, so this be the one, Jack, aye?" Barbossa's voice boomed deafeningly above her, rattling Carlotta's eardrums with every syllable. "This be where ye've hid the charts, is it not?" The clank of swords rang out again, and Jack's kneels swiveled where they were. He was standing again within seconds, and the fighting continued. Carlotta closed her eyes, breathing deeply, listening to the sounds of the violence taking place above her. She could feel her back growing damp with her blood, and it was making her nauseous.

Quite suddenly, a rough hand was at the scruff of her neck, lifting her up by her collar. It was a hand she'd never felt, and a breathing pattern she'd never heard. "Barbossa," she croaked, and he chuckled. Opening her eyes, she saw Jack standing before her with his sword pointed directly at her heart while Barbossa's hands traveled down her sides. Jack looked like he was struggling with himself to do something.

"Aha," Barbossa laughed, one of his hands finally closing over the navigational charts on the outside of her breeches. He reached inside, and she squirmed, trying to get away as he tugged hard, and pulled the maps from her. Still, he held her up with her back to him, while Jack looked on with an infuriated expression. "You're too predictable, Jack," Barbossa sighed dramatically, waving the charts in Jack's face while clutching onto Carlotta with his other hand. She briefly understood what was going on: she was being used as a shield for Barbossa. For a horrible moment, she thought Jack was about to sacrifice her to kill Barbossa, as she watched him lunge forward. A second later, however, she realized otherwise. Jack was slamming the hilt of his sword violently into Barbossa's outstretched hand, causing him to cry out, and let go of the charts he was clutching so possessively. In a gesture of retaliation, Carlotta was flung from Barbossa's grasp, directly into Jack's arms. She narrowly avoided the sword in Jack's hand, and felt unbearably sore as he just barely caught her. She let her eyes close again as he lunged forward with her in his strong grip, and although she felt very weak and dizzy, she trusted herself in Jack's clinging arms, for some reason.

The sound of metal penetrating flesh resonated throughout the atmosphere, and a hollow grunt followed it. A silence like she had never heard then hovered about them all, as the entire crowd stopped its battle to watch whatever was taking place. Someone's knees hit the floor, a curse struck the air, and a dull clunk shook the entire ship as a body fell. Jack was still breathing against her, his warm, strong arms still clutching her limp and bleeding body. He was still alive. It meant he had won. They had won. The _Black Pearl_ was theirs.

A feeble, victorious smile crossed her lips, and she tried to find words of congratulations for Jack, but she could think of nothing. All she could manage was a deep exhale, and as the breath passed over her lips, the darkness beneath her eyelids spun, and she finally lost consciousness.

* * *

**A/N:** I know, I know. HOW DARE I KILL HIM?! Right? That's what you're thinking, is it? Well, I agree. I have a soft spot for Barbossa, and I always have, even if he is creepy looking. But I couldn't help it. It had to happen. He has no reason NOT to kill Jack anymore, so if Jack hadn't killed him, HE would have killed JACK, and I couldn't let that happen. So there you are. Tragedy has struck already, in just chapter five. LOL. I'm so mean. Sorry. XD 

Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!! Reviews will keep me satisfied!!


	6. Recovering

**A/N:** Awwww, hell. This chapter frustrated me immensely. It was all I could do not to force Jack into becoming a person he'd never really be. It was all I could do not to have him just sweep her up in his arms and kiss her, and then fuck her violently in his cabin. I could barely resist the urge to make it happen, but I DID!! I DO have willpower, see?! I DO!! So instead of the intense sex scene I WANTED to write, I wrote THIS piece of shit instead. Poor Carlotta. She wants him soooo bad. And yes, she is troubled. I know, I know, she's already a little cliche, but as I said from the beginning, it's inevitable that an OC will become cliche eventually, if they're not cliche already at the start. Oh, and don't worry. The search for the Fountain of Youth with begin eventually... once I'm done submitting Carlotta and Jack to all this sexual frustration. LOL.

Sooooo... here it is. The next chapter. ENJOY!! And thanks for reading!!

* * *

Something very painful was swelling in her head. Her skull felt heavier than usual, as though it had been inflated. It was pounding angrily, screaming at her to make the pain stop, but she could do nothing. She was too tired, and her back was aching horribly. Slowly, the memory of the stab wound to her shoulder came back to her. She could still feel the injury as though it were a parasite in her flesh, and still feel the stickiness of her bleeding. With the added headache, she would have liked nothing more than to lie here on this comfortable surface for all eternity. 

But where was this comfortable surface? She remembered the battle—it had not been a very long or dramatic one, but it had been just violent enough to get her stabbed. She remembered the noises that had engulfed her just before she'd passed out in Jack's arms… the sound of a heavy body falling to the deck, the sound of Jack's deep breathing, the sound of his heartbeat, the feel of his rapid pulse against her wound as he held her, supporting all her weight. But where was she now?

Her eyelids fluttered open. The light was dim, but it was blinding to her anyway. "Jack?" she called blearily as she blinked away the disorienting spots of lights that were blurring her vision. When her sight returned to her, she moved her head a bit to catch a glimpse of her surroundings, although it hurt terribly to do so. Wincing, she glanced around. It was an entirely unfamiliar atmosphere. The floor was rocking gently, however, which led her to believe she was still aboard a ship. An unfamiliar ship…was this the _Black Pearl_, she wondered? Attempting to move, she realized how exposed she felt. She glanced down, and felt her heart miss a beat. Her top half was completely bare, save for a thick mess of bandages that bound her chest like a partial corset, while some stretched across her in a diagonal so that her wound was fully covered. Confused, she attempted to move her right arm, but all she managed was a slight twitch of her fingers. She groaned, and used her left arm to inspect herself instead. She was glad to find that she was still, at least, wearing the sailor's breeches. She was lying atop an impressive single bed, which stood against a wall to her right. The musty-smelling bed was comfortable, she noted, though less so than the one in the captain's cabin of their old ship. It was certainly more satisfactory than a hammock, however, and _much_ better than the hard floor of the forecastle.

"Jack?" she called again. "Jack? Where am I?"

The creak of a door sounded, and she looked quickly around. It was not Jack. It was Mr. Gibbs. "Ah, ye're awake," he grunted, carrying a tray with some fresh bandages on it. "Sorry for the isolation, miss, but the cap'n insisted upon it. Said 'e didn't trust ye to be so… exposed… around the prying eyes of the other wounded. They're 'ardly as fragile as you, and haven't been unconscious, so they'd 'ave 'ad plenty an opportunity to…" He raised his eyebrows pointedly at her, and she slinked away from him. He chuckled lightly. "Not t' worry, miss. I'd never cause ye no 'arm. I was th' only one the cap'n trusted enough to dress y' up, anyway, without tryin' anythin'."

"Is… that so…?" Carlotta asked shakily, feeling rather nervous that Mr. Gibbs had seen her bare breasts.

"O' course, miss," he confirmed with a kind smile. "An' now I'm 'ere to change your bandagin'. 'S got to be changed as often as possible, lest the wound infect and heal badly."

She nodded meekly. "Er… sure…" she breathed. "But… where are we?"

"Why, we're on the _Black Pearl_, Miss Carlotta," Gibbs told her fondly as he sat the tray on the desk by the bed. "Barbossa's dead. Merlin's beard, it's hard to believe, really. Ne'er thought I'd ha' lived to see it—Cap'n Jack murderin' Barbossa, jus' like 'e always wanted to. Thought he had no chance at it. But… he's done it. Even against all the odds."

"Yes," she sighed carelessly, her head pounding sickeningly with the thought of Jack killing anyone—even a ruthless pirate. "And… this room…?" she questioned.

Gibbs smiled as he sat at her bedside in a spindly wooden chair he pulled over from the desk. "This be the captain's cabin, miss, and that bed…"

"Barbossa's," she croaked, feeling ill. The last person who lay in this bed before her had been Barbossa—a filthy pirate, a thief of the one thing Jack had ever loved, and now a dead man. She shivered, turning it all over in her mind.

"Don' let the cap'n hear ye say that," Gibbs warned. "'S _his_ bed, now, an' his ship at last. I've a feelin' he wouldn't appreciate hearin' you say it's Barbossa's."

"Right," she said quickly. "Sorry, sir."

At that moment, the door groaned once more as it swung slowly open, and the eccentric figure of Jack Sparrow waltzed inside, keeping his back turned to them. She could tell from his hunched shoulders that he was tense. "Mr. Gibbs," he growled, "have ye finished dressin' the girl yet?"

Gibbs stood. "Sorry, cap'n. I haven't even started. She woke up—" Jack spun on his heel to stare. "—and immediately started questionin' me."

In a few quick strides, Jack was by her side, nudging Gibbs out of the way. "Carla, m' dear! 'S good to have ye back! How are ye feelin'? And by that I do mean, of course, are you feelin' well enough to move, so I can 'ave me bed back?"

Her heart twisted beneath her ribs, confused by his strange mix of concern and selfishness. "I feel like I've been stabbed in the shoulder," she admitted groggily, glaring accusingly at Jack's lined face. His sharp, stunning features seemed even more handsome than usual after some time spent unconscious.

The corner of Jack's beautifully shaped lips twitched with the beginnings of an amused smile. "Yes, well, I'm afraid gettin' stabbed in the shoulder 'll do that to ye."

"How long have I been out for?" she asked, gazing intently into Jack's dark eyes as though searching for a truth to a question she didn't even know.

"About a day and a half," Jack replied bitterly, his expression contorted with annoyance. "I really missed my bed, but then you had to go and get yourself stabbed, so I can't even have it back yet."

Shame rose rapidly in Carlotta's chest. "Oh, Jack," she sighed pitifully. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even think to use the weapons you gave me, I just… my instinct was to just run, but I… I'm so stupid." She was aching all over with guilt. She might not have gotten stabbed if she had just thought to pull out that pistol Jack had armed her with, and…

"You're not stupid, darlin'," Jack told her. His voice was a deep, low rumble, and his face was uncharacteristically solemn. It gave Carlotta a distinctly odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. "'S no one's fault but the bastard who stabbed you."

"And what happened to him?"

Jack said nothing, but merely blinked at her, his brow very low on his face, and his jaw clenched. Something about that expression frightened her, and although she thought it best to drop the subject, her curiosity pressed her forward.

"Jack, what did you do?"

Gibbs answered the question for him. "Our cap'n snapped the poor fella's neck," he said.

Jack shot him a meaningful, furious glare. His eyes were very narrow, and very dark. "'S not quite information fit for sharin' with a lady," he growled at his first mate, "is it, Master Gibbs?"

Mr. Gibbs opened his mouth as though to pipe up with a response, but he suddenly caught on to Jack's warning glower, and thought better of it. His mouth shut resentfully, though his lips still twisted with the ongoing formation of an indignant comment. Swallowing his unspoken words, he left, glaring at the clean bandages he never used to redress Carlotta's wound.

The silence was unbearable. Jack sat, as though this would relieve the tension, but it did not. She watched his every move, and he watched her just as thoroughly. Their eyes were locked. Carlotta didn't think her heart had ever beaten as fast as it was beating right then; she was so afraid. She was alone with a pirate—a lecherous thief and murderer—topless, and immobilized on his bed. Never had she been in a worse situation. Yet he made no advances toward her, and made no perverted comments about her slight nudity. All he did was stare at her, but his eyes were not wandering, this time. They were fixed hypnotically on hers, driving her mad with anticipation. She wished he'd simply make his usual pass at her, so she could shout him down and get it over with. But nothing happened. The emptiness of the moment was making Carlotta feel increasingly awkward. "Jack," she whispered, shifting herself so she was as far from him as possible on the bed, "why did you snap that man's neck?"

It seemed that this was exactly the question Jack had been hoping she would not ask. He broke their gaze at last, and proceeded to avoid her eyes as he spoke. "Master Gibbs has an exceedingly unaccommodating habit of telling stories he really oughtn't be telling," he said, his eyebrows knit together in anguish.

Carlotta shook her head, but stopped quickly, because it made her shoulder twinge. "Why would you do that, Jack?" She watched his eyes flit everywhere around the cabin, and watched him swallow nervously. "Why did you kill that man? He did you no harm."

"He… stabbed you," Jack said vaguely. "It… I… took it as a personal offense." He scratched his ear embarrassedly before standing quickly, and turning his back on her. "Here, I'll just call Master Gibbs back in 'ere to redress your wound, and leave ye to your thoughts, shall I?" He stalked grumpily from the room the way people tend to when they're avoiding uncomfortable conversations. She wanted to call after him, to make him stay, to apologize to him—but she didn't know what she'd say, or what she was even apologizing for. She hadn't done anything wrong, after all. So she held her tongue, and although it was difficult, she managed to keep quiet as the door creaked open and Jack slipped out. Carlotta felt the atmosphere in the cabin develop a slight chill, as though Jack's presence had kept the air warm.

When Mr. Gibbs returned, looking resigned to his unlikely task of having to care for Carlotta, she sighed in a disgruntled sort of way. "Why does Captain Jack make you redress me?"

He shrugged. "Well, the cap'n seemed to feel it disrespectful to do it 'imself. He's a crude man, our Jack, but he respects a woman's privacy."

"Tell me what happened, sir," Carlotta begged breathlessly before she could stop herself. "Tell me why Jack snapped that man's neck after I passed out."

Mr. Gibbs let out a long breath, his eyebrows raised skeptically. "Ah… well, miss… who e'er really knows _why _Cap'n Jack does what he does? He's a right soddin' myst'ry, he is. There's no denyin' it. Jack's as warped and daft as any madman, and just as vicious." He pulled up Jack's empty seat by the bed, continuing to leave the bandages untouched on the desk. "But as for _what_ happened… after ye got stabbed those days ago, Barbossa took ye from the deck and tried to use ye as a shield. He took the charts from ye, but Jack sliced 'em from his hand like no trouble. Barbossa didn't like that, y'see, so 'e threw your body at Jack, meanin' to distract 'im. But our Jack's better 'n that, ain' 'e? Yeah. He caught ye in one arm, and with the other, 'e ran Barbossa right through his heart. The bastard fell, then Jack dropped 'is bloodied sword to hold ye in both arms. He slapped ye around a bit, tryin' to rouse ye back into consciousness again, I s'pose, but ye were well out cold. Pretty sure 'e thought ye was dead. I thought it me self for a bit. So Jack got into this maddened rage, like a wild animal, 'e was, and lays ye down so 'e can go after th' man tha' did it. And this poor fool's backin' away like 'e done nothin' wrong, congratulatin' Jack on killin' Barbossa, and recapturin' the _Pearl_, an' all. But Jack was set, and when Jack's set, there ain't nothin' and no one's goin' to change 'is mind, see? So with a roar like an offended beast, Jack lunges, an' 'e gets 'is hands 'round th' offender's quiverin' skull." Gibbs shivered. "'T wasn't a moment I think I'll be glad t' remember so well in the future. The sound of a snappin' neck ain't a charmin' one, y' know. The rest o' Barbossa's crew came o'er pretty quietly after that. O' course, it certainly helped tha' most of 'em was Jack's crew 'fore they was Barbossa's, in the firs' place."

Carlotta felt her head spinning. It wasn't a particularly mesmerizing tale, but the situation was playing out in her mind—fully illustrated and colored, with realistic motions that were drawing her in, so she felt a part of the scene. She could see it vividly: her own limp and bleeding body sprawled across the deck, Jack's furious bellow of grief, and his suddenly enflamed aggression. She could see, too, her attacker's expression of horror as Jack's rough, blood-drenched palms found the sides of his head. She could almost hear the resonating snap of his neck, splitting the air like the cracking of some vengeful whip.

Feeling sick to her stomach, she squirmed slightly where she lay, but Mr. Gibbs put out a hand to ease her. "It's a horror story to a damsel like yourself, I'm sure," he told her tenderly, "but I assure ye, lass, Jack's as safe a man as I am."

"That's… not saying very much for you, then, Master Gibbs." Carlotta was shaking. Not only was the invented image of Jack's recent murder still fervent in her thoughts, but the frightening prospect of having her bandages changed was starting to feel like more of a reality. Gibbs had reached for the tin of white cloth, and the bottle of alcohol beside it. Her eyes grew damp as it occurred to her that he would be required to strip her chest bare again.

"What d'you mean by that, miss?" he asked, cutting the fabric into long strips.

"Well… how… how do I know you're safe? How can I trust you with my body?" Carlotta tried to inch further away from him, but her right side hit the wall, and she winced as a tingling pain shot up her right arm and shoulder.

"The Cap'n certainly thought I was trustworthy enough, now, didn' 'e?" he said imploringly. "Now please, miss… let me do me job, won't ye?"

She swallowed anxiously as Gibbs reached forward. "B-but…" she stuttered hurriedly, eyeing his nearing hands warily. "N-no. No. I d-don't even know you well. Why would I give you the privilege of stripping away my only covering so you could have full access to…" Her sentence trailed off. "Why should I trust you with such an opportunity? Why should I put myself in such a dangerous situation? _Why_?" Her heart was drumming furiously, painfully—surely damaging her ribs. She couldn't let a man touch her. Not one she barely knew. Not like this. Not when she was so helpless.

"Now, really, Miss Carlotta! Stop being so damned difficult, and let me…" He stretched out his arm, and his fingertips collided with her bare flesh as he attempted to get to her tightly bound dressing.

"NO!" she shrieked uncontrollably. Her left arm smacked him away, and her legs were flailing as though she were being attacked. She shook her head back and forth wildly, like a child throwing an angry tantrum. "No, no, no, no, _NO_! _Don't touch me_!"

Mr. Gibbs backed away, his arms held up in defeat. "Quit ye're bloody shoutin', missy! What's the matter with ye?"

"Get away from me!" she yelled. "Get _away_!"

"Stop throwin' such a bleedin' fit! You're daft, you are, lass!" And at that, he stood, glaring at her as though she were crazy before scuffling fearfully out of the room where she continued to writhe like a madwoman.

Carlotta could not calm down, now. She was so helpless in this position, and she could not let a man touch her. She just couldn't. She could handle prying eyes, but she couldn't stand to be touched. The memory of her father's hands was too haunting, and just too nauseating. She couldn't let that happen again. Her limbs were twitching anxiously, and she was muttering "No," repetitively under her breath. She could feel sweat developing in a thin film all over her body. It made the surface area beneath her bandages feel itchy, and she suddenly longed to peel them off. Her left arm, though weak, came up to meet her breasts. Her quaking fingers shoved themselves beneath the wrapping, and she began furiously attempting to tug it away. It hurt, and she groaned another anguished "No." Breathing deeply, her desperation making her crazy, she flung her arm out to the side, groping for the tray of dressing materials. The back of her hand met a tin, and it clanged noisily. She flinched in surprise, and the entire tray came crashing down. Her hand clutched the side of the desk that the tray had been resting on as she tried to catch her breath and regain her sensibility. It hurt her palm. She let go, and tried to reach down to the floor to gather up the spilt fabric. The alcohol was seeping into the wood of the floor, sliding back and forth across it, attuned with swaying motions of the ship. She could not reach any of it, as the bundle of cloth started to roll toward the other end of the cabin. She clawed the floor desperately, trying to reach it, picking herself half off the bed in a hopeless attempt. It failed. Her body was suddenly tossed from the comfort of the mattress, and she hit the floorboards harder than she thought was possible.

The pain ripped through her like another dagger. Tears ran down her cheeks against her will, and she bit her lip, resisting the scream of agony that was threatening to burst from her. All that escaped her was a loud moan, which rose quickly in pitch until she was squealing like a frightened puppy. Unable to see through her blurred vision anyway, she shut her eyes tightly. She barely heard the creaking of the door as it opened—she was too deafened by the rapid pulse thumping in her eardrums.

A curse broke through to her, and she opened her sore eyes again. For what seemed like the umpteenth time, she spotted Jack's old boots and knew it was him before she even looked up. "Jack," she moaned, feeling too weak to say much else.

"Get up, ye great, pitiful heap." She turned over slightly, and gazed up at Jack. She did not move, despite his command. He raised his eyebrows at her. "I have just been informed by me trusty first mate that you are stupidly disallowing him to redress your injury. Is this correct?" He glared down at her pathetic, shaking body. She nodded, and he rolled his eyes. "Why are you so ruddy mulish?" he roared, making her ears throb.

She closed her eyes again, trying to block out the echo of his ringing voice. "I couldn't let him touch me," she croaked through a very dry throat.

"Mater Gibbs is one o' the few men I'd trust around a lady. He'd ne'er try even a smidge o' anythin' indecent. Could ha' been _me_ strippin' ye, bu' instead I put ye in the care o' someone who can at least keep 'is hands to his self… mostly. So why d' ye make a fuss, ye spoiled brat?"

Carlotta blinked, and with a sudden gush of fresh tears, she began to sob onto the damp floor. "I don't trust him," she cried. "I don't trust men."

Ignoring her outright sorrow, he placed his hands on his hips and continued to glare. "'S that's why ye chased 'im out, is it? Distrust for the males o' the world? 'S that why ye were stupid enough to try an' fix your bandagin' on your own?" She sobbed harder, and Jack seemed to take this as a confession. "Alright, well, you're an idiot," he concluded. "Come on." He swooped down on her, slipping one of his hands under her arms, and the other beneath the joint of her knees. He lifted her from the ground, and she fell weakly against his chest. His heart was thudding against her cheek, like a fast-paced drum. For unknown reasons, it made her uneasy. She started to squirm again. "Calm down, ye maniac," he snapped at her, his voice authoritative and stern. She could not calm down, though. His closeness was making her nervous.

"Put me down, Jack," she said firmly through her crying. "Put me down. Please."

"Who are you to be givin' your own captain orders, eh, lass?" he quipped, and she could hear the smirk in his tone, even with her eyes closed again.

She sniffled. "Just… put me down, Jack," she demanded, flinging her arm out to push him away. She rolled toward the very tips of his fingers, threatening to fall, but he clutched her more tightly. "Let _go_ of me!" she screamed suddenly, and he jumped.

"Bloody hell, woman!" he snarled. "You're mad!"

"_Let go of me_!" she continued to cry. "Let_ go_!" She kicked out, then, and he had no choice. He placed her slowly and carefully upon the bed, even through her persistent thrashing. He tried to quiet her with repetitive shushing noises, but she was inconsolable at the moment. She was scared helpless, and completely out of her wits. "Let go! Don't touch me!" she shouted.

"Calm yourself, Carla! Calm down!" He had her pinned to the bed with his sweaty palms. She was writhing so fiercely, he was afraid she might hurt herself.

"LET GO!" she shrieked. "Stop touching me!"

"I'm not doing anything!" he roared. "I'm tryin' to help you, ye crazy woman!"

"GET OFF! GET OFF!" She tried to prize his fingers off of her arms, but they held fast, trying to keep her calm. He didn't seem to realize they were only driving her further over the edge. "GET OFF, YOU BASTARD! STOP IT!"

Jack gave her a good shake, disregarding her bleeding shoulder completely. "_Snap out of it_, darlin'! Get your head together! No one's tryin' to hurt you!"

"GET OFF OF ME! STOP IT, FATHER, _STOP _IT! DON'T TOUCH ME! _STOP_! YOU'RE HURTING ME! GET _OFF_!"

And that was when Jack let go. His fingers fell limp around her arms, and she lashed out viciously. He stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the clean fabric that Mr. Gibbs was supposed to have redressed her with. He let himself drop into the empty chair, feeling disgusted as comprehension finally dawned on him. He watched her continued wriggling, and waited for her to fall still and silent at last. It was several minutes before her body finally went limp, and her shouting stopped. She was still sobbing quietly, her face turned towards the wall and away from Jack, but at least she was tranquil again. He gazed at her, a horrified scowl distorting his features. "Father…?" he whispered, watching her carefully. She flinched at the word, but said nothing.

Carlotta drew her knees up, her toes fidgeting with one another. After a long while, she nodded at the wall. "I'm sorry," she breathed guiltily. "I didn't mean to…"

"Stop it," he spat, and she turned her head quickly back to look at him. Her cheeks were very wet, and her eyes extremely red. "Don't you tell me ye're sorry. That wasn't no ordinary slip o' the tongue, love. There's a story to be told, there, aye?"

She nodded again, her eyes locking painfully with Jack's. Carlotta had never seen him so sorrowful. Was this really the same man she'd met barely less than a week ago? "I hate him," she sighed, her heart constricting with emotion.

"He forced himself on you," Jack stated quietly for her. She was glad for it. She didn't think she could say it out loud. Not to him. Not to anyone.

She sniffed, and nodded once again. "H-he—he tried, but he… he didn't."

"You ran," he whispered, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms stiffly. Another nod. "The bastard I told off in that tavern… the bastard who was hunting you… he tried to rape you." More tears slid silently down Carlotta's cheeks, and she sucked in her lips to restrain from breaking down in sobs again. Jack's eyes were black as night, and oddly bloodshot as he stared at her. His mouth was twisted, and a muscle was pulsating visibly in his clenched jaw.

Carlotta sighed. "You shouldn't hear all this," she said weakly. "I shouldn't be burdening you with all this, sir. I'm sorry."

"Stop bein' sorry, love," he told her angrily, putting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up into a standing position. "You're stupid."

She couldn't help the smile that crept over her face at that. "Thanks a lot, Jack," she said sarcastically.

He smirked at her. "Well," he said, clapping his hands together, "I'm sorry, darlin', but y' really do need to have those bandages changed, lest ye wish for your blood to gather and clot and have your wound infected." She shook her head, feeling nervous again, but resigning herself to it. Her outburst had drained her enough that she couldn't bother anymore with resisting the inevitable. It just had to be done, now. "Good," he said, sounding relieved. "So… shall I recall Master Gibbs, then? Or would ye have someone else do the deed?"

"Can't I do it myself?" she asked hopefully, peering at Jack through her lingering haze of tears. He looked pointedly at her, his eyebrows raised.

"Darlin', you can barely move your right arm. How d'you expect to unravel the dressin' if ye can't move one of your arms without experiencin' severe pain?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Couldn't I try?"

"You need help with it, love, no matter what you tell yourself. Now shall I fetch our dear Master Gibbs?"

Her heart pounded. She had a feeling Gibbs was a good man, but with her eyes fixed on Jack's, she almost wanted _him_ to do it. She felt bold after having given Jack the knowledge of such an intimate detail about her. He understood her situation better, now. Surely he wouldn't take advantage of her, now, not after what he'd just found out. She shook her head. "Not Gibbs," she whispered. She bit her lip, unsure that this was a good thing to request.

He rolled his eyes, and flung his arms out exasperatedly. "Then what'll ye have me do, love? Would ye like another crewmember? I'm afraid we've no other women aboard, here, but…"

"Can _you_ do it?" she asked quickly, her voice very high with nerves. Her heart leapt as the words left her mouth. Never—_never_—had she suggested anything so daring in her entire life. Shocked by her own question, she flushed a vibrant shade of pink.

Jack's face was blank, though his eyebrows were dangerously high, almost disappearing beneath his bandana. "You want… _me_ to do it?" he repeated. "You're asking _me_ to undress you?" His confused expression slid suddenly into one of amusement. "I'd be happy to oblige you, darlin'. And I swear I'll not let me hands or me eyes wander where they're not wanted. I'm a dishonest man, love, but I keep my word." She smiled at him, realizing how comfortable he made her feel. He shook his head at her incredulously. "You're a strange girl, Carla. So simple, so naïve, so submissive…" He smirked. "But ye're as quickly changin' in temperament as the merciless weather."

She didn't know what to say to that. She decided on simply smiling at him, but as the silence between them lengthened, she began to feel awkward again. Jack seemed to feel the same, and he cleared his throat suddenly. "So, ah… d' you think you can sit up?" he asked, standing up and moving about the room to retrieve the fallen supplies from the floor before returning to her side.

"I don't know," she said, already starting to push herself up on her left elbow. With Jack's offered help, she managed to straighten her back, and sit upright on the bed. She crossed her legs, wincing as the movement made her injury twinge. Her heart was fluttering wildly beneath her chest as Jack reached for her. She flinched when his rough, dirty fingers brushed the fabric around her breasts. At the same time, to her slight surprise, she found herself almost enjoying the feel of him beginning to undo the dressing.

Her breathing grew shallow, and her chest heaved as he unleashed a strip of the cloth from its knot, and leaned forward to unravel it from the cluster that was currently squeezing her bosom. He was smirking silently at her reaction, but he said nothing, and did not let his hands wander—just as he'd promised. "Turn around, love," he ordered, his voice a low and unintentionally seductive growl. She shuddered, but did as he asked, shifting so that she was facing the wall with her back turned to him. He continued to undo the bandaging, his hands occasionally traveling in front of her to unwrap the tight bindings. It was extremely awkward, but she kept her head level.

Every layer of fabric that was removed from her shoulder made her flinch. It hurt terribly, but soon the dressing was all falling into a pile around her, and she felt completely released. Jack's filthy, ringed hand accidentally caressed her shoulder blade as he thoughtfully gathered up her bushy tresses and placed them gently over her left shoulder so that her wound could be completely exposed. She shivered—partially from her back's sudden exposure to the air, and partially from the feeling of Jack's hand on her bare skin. It felt very warm, and made her sigh. She heard him snigger behind her, and she blushed, glad that he could not see her face. She waited for him to start replacing the old, blood-soaked bandages with new ones, but instead she experienced a slight tickling sensation around the bloody wound—Jack's fingers were trailing lightly around it, as though he were exploring her curiously. It was making her heart skip beats, and she got very nervous. She cleared her throat. "Should I… um… turn around?" she asked in a shaky and vulnerable whisper. He gave a low chuckle, and pulled his fingers away.

"No, love," he told her. His hand abruptly clutched her left shoulder, and she jumped. "This'll sting a bit," he warned apologetically. She waited anxiously, her heart panging with anticipation. A minute later, something pressed hard against her wound, and her entire body gave a mad twitch in surprise.

"Oh," she squealed, glaring over her shoulder at him. "Ouch! What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry darlin'," he said in a hoarse whisper. His expression was pained. "I'm so sorry. It's just rum... what's left of what you spilled, anyway. It'll stop hurting in a bit."

The pain brought more tears to her eyes. Her dry, cracking lip began to bleed as she bit it so hard that she broke skin. She grasped the sheets on either side of her, her fingers shaking as her knuckles turned white. "Rum?" she gasped sharply. "Why… rum?" Her entire body was heaving with the effort to keep breathing properly through the overwhelming, stinging pain.

Jack maintained the pressure he was inflicting on her wound. "It helps," he said vaguely as he reached for more dressing. "Alright, I'm goin' to hand you the fabric, and you'll have to wrap it about your front on your own, if ye don't want me seein' yer womanly areas." She nodded, blushing embarrassedly at Jack's elusive mention of her breasts. She felt a strip of the bandage cross her shoulder, and Jack's hand suddenly came into view, handing her the wad of fabric. She crossed it over her chest in a diagonal, then handed it to Jack again behind her. He pulled it roughly, making her lurch uncontrollably, before handing her the roll on her other side so that she could wrap it across her front again. It continued this way for a long time, her breathing very ragged, and her heartbeat very fast—increasing steadily each time Jack's fingers caressed her sensitive skin.

After a few minutes, they were finally done. She turned back to him cautiously, and found that his black eyes were shining like wide stretches of black sky, sprinkled with glittering stars that taunted Carlotta as she gazed at him. He was so handsome, and had been such a gentleman as he'd dressed her injury. "Thank you, Jack," she whispered.

"It was no problem, love," he said in a strained voice. "You just lie down, now."

"I'm okay," she assured him. "I mean, my shoulder stings, but mostly my arms are just sore." She looked down at them. Purple bruises were already developing where Jack had grabbed her to hold her still when she'd been throwing her emotional fit.

Jack groaned. "Well, I'm thrilled, love, I really am, but I'm afraid I really ought to…" He trailed off, looking vaguely toward the door.

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "You go. That's best." She smiled as he glared curiously at her, like he didn't know quite what to make of her.

"Lie down," he commanded gruffly as he stood from his chair and reached out to push her back onto the bed. Her stomach seemed to boil as he lowered her delicately onto her back. When her head hit Jack's pillow, she felt the place between her legs dampen dramatically, and she gasped at the unexpected sensation. Jack's face looming above her was doing nothing to assuage the strange feeling. She squirmed awkwardly, Jack's hands still resting lightly on her arms. He was not leaving.

She cleared her throat. "Jack," she whispered.

"What?"

"Congratulations on getting the _Pearl_ back."

He smirked, and finally let go of her. "Couldn't ha' done it without you, love," he said fondly, his eyes sparkling as he walked backwards toward the door. "I'll come back when ye should 'ave 'em changed again," he said, his eyes flitting greedily to her bandaged chest. There was the Jack she knew—the one who made her feel uncomfortable with his lecherous staring. Oddly enough, it comforted her to know he was still that familiarly discomforting Jack, and she smiled amusedly at him. He smiled back, almost genuinely, before flinging open the door, and leaving Carlotta alone in the cabin with her extremely riled emotions.

* * *

**A/N:** Aaaaaarg, you see?! You see my frustration?! She's topless, and he's just sitting there with his hands caressing her back and shit... how badly did you want them to just LEAP on each other and...? Ehem... well... y'know. Lol. XD 

Thanks for reading!! I love reviews!! They keep me happy, and they are the fuel that keeps this stupid story going!!


	7. Furious Fondness

**A/N:** I'M WARNING YOU NOW... this chapter is really fluffy. XD LOL. I wanted fluff. Forgive me. Maybe it's all to do with the fact that I just watched Finding Neverland, which could make me want fluffiness even after a horrible day... and which, I just realized, might have been accidental inspiration for my title. LOL! That movie is the most wonderfully adorable thing in the universe. Plus, who DOESN'T love Johnny Depp with that accent, huh?! XD

This chapter is shorter than my chapters usually are, but oh well. You'll survive. Heh heh. Oh, and just to clarify... the first three paragraphs are a dream. I shoulda made it clearer, but it's so much more fun to think it's really happening, and then get confused and go back to reread it and try to understand wtf just happened. lol. I love doing that to people.

HAPPY FEBRUARY!! Hope y'all enjoy the superbowl (eh...) and SUPER TUESDAY (OMG SO EXCITING)!!!!

AND DO ENJOY THE CHAPTER!!! Happy reading, my darling dears!!

* * *

She was standing at the helm of the _Black Pearl_, her dress flowing madly around her ankles in the crisp wind. Her eyes were shut delicately against the cool breeze, and there was a calm smile on her lips. Her shoulder did not hurt; in fact, it was as though she had never been stabbed. She hugged herself close, savoring the smoothness of her uninjured skin. She hoped she'd never have to face another pirate, and that she could just ride the pleasant sea alone forever. 

A pair of hands slinked around her waist. They were warm and gentle. Their owner had his torso pressed to her back, and she leaned into his embrace with a happy sigh. She looked down, and saw that the hands now caressing her stomach were clad in numerous sparkling rings. She smiled, though the unclean fingertips were staining her dress as they slid along her body. "Jack," she sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against his shoulder. She could hear his deep breathing beside her, and feel his shaggy hair tickling her cheek. His presence was making her insides flutter.

"Carlotta," he whispered, brushing his lips along her neck. She shivered at the touch, and at the sound of her legitimate name. Her reaction seemed to encourage him, and he suddenly turned her around in his grasp, so she was facing him. He held her close. His eyes were dark and shining with adoration, and his lips parted slightly in an effort to breathe more steadily. "I want you," he grumbled, leaning forward to press his lips to hers. She sighed with delight, tilting her head up to meet his mouth.

With a jolt, Carlotta's eyes snapped open. She was groaning without even realizing that she was. The pain in her shoulder was flaring, and she could not control herself. She flung her left arm out to clutch at the sheets, and her toes curled, trying to block out the intense stinging. Thank goodness for that wound, or her dream would have gone further than would have been appropriate. She grunted disapprovingly at herself as the awfully tempting images flooded her skull like poison. "Damn," she spat touchily. "Damn him."

"Who's damned, now, darlin'?" Jack's voice wafted surprisingly across the room to her. She jumped, and flinched at the shooting pain of her sudden motion.

"No one," she said quickly, sitting herself up slowly to look around at him. The sight that greeted her made her eyes pop. He was standing near the door, turned away from her. His torso was fantastically bare, and she caught a quick glimpse of his slick naked back before his linen shirt fell over the gracious display of his scarred and tattooed flesh. Her heartbeat grew extremely fast paced at this vision, and remained so even after he had covered himself. "No one," she said again, sounding oddly choked. "I… didn't say anything."

Jack shrugged as he turned back to her, throwing on his doublet. "If you say so, love," he said with a chuckle, moving purposefully towards her in his usual swaggering stride. She inched backward as he approached, then let out a breath of relief to see him flop into the seat at his desk. She didn't think she could stand it to have him very near to her at the moment, not after that dream, and not after having just seen his naked back. She shivered. She felt certain that she was radiating her desire in practically tangible waves, and with Jack's remarkable ability to sense a woman's lust, she would be surprised if he couldn't smell the heat burning painfully between her legs.

She cleared her throat as she examined Jack's face. He was focused on his work, to which Carlotta paid no mind. Her head was throbbing with curiosity again, the image of Jack without his shirt staying prevalent in her thoughts. "Jack," she began quietly, "where did you get all those scars?"

He looked up at her swiftly, his eyes ablaze and his mouth twisted in a grin as he realized she'd seen him topless. "Ah," he grunted knowingly. "Enjoy the show, did ye, darlin'?"

Her eyes widened in embarrassment. "Enjoy…? No!" she said quickly. She could feel the color in her cheeks deepen. "I was just… curious," she told him, averting her eyes to Jack's hands, which were busy on his desk. It was then that she realized he was cutting more strips of the cloth that was being used for her bandages. She groaned, completely forgetting her previous question. "Oh God," she protested. "Please, no, Jack." He merely sniggered.

"Not that I don't take pleasure in listenin' to ye beg, m' dearest, but I'm afraid it must be done," he told her with mock solemnity as his black eyes sparkled greedily, raking her hardly-covered body. He dragged his chair closer to the bed, so Carlotta's heart thumped more violently within her, and her breaths shortened. "Turn 'round, love," he demanded. She had to remind herself of what a gentleman he had been the last time, or she wouldn't be able to do it again. She did feel much more relaxed, now, but she still did not turn around. "Turn," he ordered again, more firmly. Their eyes were locked. Jack's brow was low and creased, and his gaze was very stern. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he suddenly flung out one of his arms to take her shoulder pitilessly in his rough grasp. He leaned forward, and she inhaled his putrid stench with shocking unconcern. "Turn around," he growled for a third time, and pushed her roughly so that she was forced to turn her back on him.

Carlotta hissed at the feeling of his fingers on her back again. She closed her eyes, remembering that brief look she'd stolen of Jack's naked back. As though he were reading her thoughts—a possibility that was deeply troubling to her—he spoke. "Y' know, love, I really don't keep a close watch on all me different bumps 'n' bruises. So in answer t' your curiosity, I don' know which came from what. Sorry, darlin'." His sentence was punctuated by her gasp as the bandaging fell away. She felt Jack's hand lingering on her left shoulder blade as though he were absorbing the smoothness of her skin through that simple touch. His palm was hot, rough, and calloused, and it was driving her mad. It slid torturously across her spine, and finally rested near the injury at her right shoulder. His fingertips prodded the sore area, and although it hurt, she was so overwhelmed by the provocative situation that she didn't even flinch. Her left hand wandered unconsciously to her thigh, and she dug her nails into the fabric of her breeches there in an attempt to alleviate her intense longing. Then without another word, Jack pressed a rum-soaked cloth to her shoulder again. She reacted instinctively to the suddenness of the action—she leapt up, and turned slightly to shy away from the stinging pressure.

"Jack, you fiend!" she cried out, covering her chest quickly as she blushed scarlet. "You might have warned me!" Why she had decided to assign _him_ of all people to this intimate task, she could not remember at the moment.

He was smirking behind her back. "Aye," he told her nonchalantly. "I might 'ave. But what'd be the fun in that, eh? 'S so much more entertainin' to watch ye squirm."

She had nothing to say to that, so she simply bit her lip and closed her eyes again. She didn't know whether or not she felt more disgusted or excited by his statement. The two emotions seemed to be linked arm in arm recently. She shook her head, trying to feel less conflicted as Jack began to reapply fresh bandages over her newly cleaned wound. "You're horrible," she spat as she assisted him, her temper sparking unexpectedly.

"That I am, dearie," he growled. "Never forget that. Wouldn't want ye to start carin' about me, now, eh?" His voice was thick with bitterness, but his words made Carlotta's heart flutter uncontrollably.

She swallowed anxiously, feeling ill. "No," she agreed in a low whisper, keeping her eyes down on her knees as the two of them worked on her dressing. "We couldn't have that." They continued in silence for several minutes. The atmosphere seemed to be pulsing with her thunderous heartbeat. Her head was aching, filled with the overwhelming and earsplitting sound. What she said next, she could not explain, for she had no memory of even thinking it. "Jack," she sighed meekly, "you'd never hurt me, would you?"

The rustling of the cloth at her shoulder paused for a moment, but she could feel it shaking against her, as though Jack's fingers had become suddenly unsteady. He said nothing, and started up his work once more. A moment later, however, he had finished, and he swung her around to face him with excessive force. Her eyes swept to his, and a sudden chill struck her at the sight of their cold severity. His fingers on her arm were stained with the blood from her wound. The hold he had on her was so tight that tears were welling in her eyes. "Jack," she breathed. The name tasted poisonous on her lips, and she shuddered beneath his fingers. She had never meant to ask him that. She knew he could not be trusted, but with such a question, she felt she was giving the impression that she wanted to trust him—or that she already did. And… did she? He was untrustworthy, but she wasn't sure that she did not trust him. He had saved her life, he respected her privacy—most of the time—and he never went _too_ far, despite his countless vulgar suggestions. Her stomach felt very light, as though it had been filled with air. Did she really trust the notoriously dishonest Captain Jack Sparrow? If that was so, she felt sickened with herself. It was bad enough that she found him attractive… but to actually _trust_ the bloody pirate?

"You listen here, girlie," he snarled, pointing one of his dirty, ornamented fingers directly in her face. "Don' expect me t' protect ye from everythin' out here in these waters. Don' expect me to be always such a gentleman, neither. I do what I please, and I get what I want, and I always try to be fair in the process. I ain't plannin' on hurtin' you none, but… don't make me promise that I'd never, 'cause I can't always keep big promises like that, y' see. I'm not goin' to lie to ye, darlin'. I could hurt you so easily, you'd be broken 'fore y' even realized what I'd done. I've hurt women before, y' know. 'S not that I try to, but I manage to be extremely good at it accidentally, somehow. So I could tell ye that I'd ne'er hurt ye, but I don't want to give ye no false sense o' trust in me. Don't put yer trust in me, darlin'. That's a friendly warnin'. You're agreeable company, and I'm rather fond of ye, so I'd hate breakin' a promise to an innocent soul such as yours. But I'll tell ye," he added more quietly, the seriousness in his tone becoming even more evident as his voice grew soft, "that I certainly don't _want_ to hurt you, love." His eyes searched her face gently, as though in silent apology. "'S that good enough, for now, darlin'?"

She was speechless. He was fond of her. He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to break any promises to her. He considered her agreeable company. That was all she could focus on. She couldn't even muster up the energy to caution herself against all he'd warned—that he's not trustworthy, that he can't always protect her, that he's not such a gentleman, and that he's a talent for hurting women. She couldn't care anymore. Her heart was strumming wildly inside of her, and she couldn't be bothered with reason. Giving up, and smiled at him. "Yes," she croaked. "That's wonderful." Her eyes were wet, but very warm as she gazed at him. The rapid beating of her heart was twisting all her feelings, and she wasn't thinking straight, she decided. That was why she felt so strongly for Jack in this instant. That _had_ to be why. Her fast pulse was making her light-headed, and it was messing with her emotions. _That_ was why.

Jack grinned, his eyes still lingering on hers. "Good," he said firmly. He loosened his grip on her arm, and she gasped as the air made contact with that sensitive, bruised area again. "Sorry," he said, nodding to her sore arm which, she noticed, he had smeared with her blood. "I can be a little violent when I'm passionate for somethin'." He smirked suggestively, his eyebrows raised. As he leaned away from her in his chair, the atmosphere around her dropped slightly in temperature. Jack's body heat had been so marvelously intense that she had felt it burning on her skin like direct sunlight. His closeness had her coated in cool sweat, and now she was itchy beneath her bandages again. She sniffed, unsure of what else to do, and blinked at him.

Jack stood, relieving her discomfort slightly. "Well, darlin'," he said loudly, "I'm unhappy to inform you that we're startin' to run low on supplies again. We'll be needin' to stop at the next port to pick up a few things."

"Like what?" she inquired curiously.

His lips twitched. "Well, we're lacking in medical equipment," he said vaguely, "and we've not many food stuffs left, what with Barbossa's remarkable disorganization and disregard for human wellbeing…"

"You want more rum," she stated dully. Her stomach seemed to twist itself into a knot. "You're a bloody alcoholic."

He glared at her. "I'm a pirate, little missy," he snarled defensively, rocking back and forth on his heels while one of his bloodied hands trailed lazily over his pistol, stroking it as though stroking a lover's thigh. She watched his dirtied fingers move intently, avoiding Jack's gaze. She didn't like alcohol, and just because she was feeling odd in the head at the moment, she wasn't about to start liking it any better, now. "All pirates drink rum, Carla, m' dear," he reminded her. "Now if ye want to be stayin' aboard my ship, lass, ye'll accept that fact, and accept the drunkenness around you."

She held her tongue. She wanted to remind him what rum had stolen from her—her father's sanity, her mother's life, and nearly her own virginity. But she couldn't. He would get angry, and she would feel guilty for it. Or perhaps he'd take pity on her, and she'd go wild with embarrassment. Either way, it wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want to create a scene. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, after all, and he was hardly the sort of man to be told what he should and should not do. He was far too stubborn for that. He was independent and free to make his own choices—free to lead whatever life he wanted. She'd always craved that sort of freedom, but never had the chance to find it. She felt a jolt of delight as she realized suddenly that here, on the _Black Pearl_ with Jack and his crew, she was finally being given that chance. She was really free.

"What're you smilin' about, love?" he asked her suspiciously, tilting away from her as though she were exuding some kind of vile fumes.

She shrugged. "I was just thinking about the opportunity you've given me," she told him happily. "If it weren't for you, I'd probably still be back in Santiago, hiding out God only knows where. I mightn't even be alive, by now, if it wasn't for your generosity." She pursed her lips, cautiously eyeing Jack's pleased grin. "You've given me my life, Jack," she sighed gratefully, her voice wavering a bit as her lungs flooded with emotion. Her heart seemed to have swollen, expanding painfully in her small chest, so she felt choked and breathless.

"Oh, shut it," he snapped, though his eyes appeared strangely bright, and the expression did not match his harsh tone. "Stop that, now. I'm not one for sentiments." He looked away from her, picking at his fingernails and chewing on his lip awkwardly. "I'm a hero, yeah, yeah, I get it, but let's jus' stop this gibberin' 'fore ye starts blubberin' like a woman... which…you are." He cleared his throat, and looked back at her. "So, Carla, tell me… how're ye feelin' since this mornin', eh?"

"I'm better, I think," she said, wiping her damp, red eyes. Jack avoided her gaze again as she did this. "I could probably try to stand up."

Jack took an overly dramatic step back towards the bed, his arms outstretched toward her in gratitude. "Could ye, now? Because that would be an immense relief! I do so miss that bed."

She glared at him. "I could," she said, sliding herself to the edge of the bed. "I certainly think I'm able." She put her weight on her legs, and pushed herself up slowly with her left hand, while cradling her right arm protectively at her breast. She shut her eyes as she let her entire body mass rest on her feet. The deep wound stung terribly, and as the pain shot through her back muscles like the explosion of a thousand agonizing nerves, she let out an aggrieved squeal, and nearly lost her balance. A warm hand slipped around one of her arms, however, and another held her lower back carefully. She inhaled deeply, her eyes still closed. She could smell Jack in front of her, and feel his heat radiating over her shaking body. Her heart was thundering once more, and she leaned forward, submitting to his grasp. When her cheek found his chest, she sighed. "I'm fine, Jack," she breathed.

"The bloody dagger got too close t' your spine," Jack hissed furiously from above her. "Any more to the left, an' y' could ha' been immobilized an' bedded for life, darlin'. You're lucky."

She smiled, absorbing the comfort of this position while it lasted. "Thanks, Jack," she said. Her left hand slid delicately up his arm, which she found impressively muscular. Her thighs gave a needy throb at this intimate touch, and she grew very hot once again.

The door slammed suddenly open, and they both leapt up. Carlotta stifled a squeak of pain, and caught herself against one of the bedposts while Jack swung about to glare irritably at the intruder. It was Mr. Gibbs.

"Sorry, Cap'n," he said, realizing he'd just entered when he wasn't wanted. "Miss Carlotta," he greeted her politely with a quick nod of his head. "I'm sorry, Cap'n, but there's a merchant ship approachin', an' I though' we might indulge in bit o' good ol' decent piratin', aye? What say you, Jack? We wouldn't ne'er have to make port if they've a good load."

Jack sauntered to his first mate, gazing at the door thoughtfully. "'S been a while," he said with a cock of his head and a shrug. "But I'm always up for a good raid 'n' capturin'. An' we could maybe gather some new recruits from their crew. Any nice innocent sailor men who'd be good potential crimps t' lure 'ere, aye? Oh, now ye've got me all jittery. How exciting." He turned back to Carlotta. "You stay in here, love," he commanded, gesturing fluidly to the bed. "You're still injured, an' I don't want ye getting' caught in no crossfire."

She did not protest, nor did she care too. One pirate battle had been enough violence for her lifetime. She was not eager to encounter another—particularly one in which Jack would be deliberately thieving, and attempting to pressgang innocent sailors onto his ship. If she were out there with him, she could imagine herself trying to hold him back, and prevent such lawless and immoral behavior. But he was Captain Jack Sparrow, and who was she to restrain him? She felt a shiver pass through her at the thought of his uncontrollable personality. That quality in him both terrified and excited her—or did it excite her because it terrified her? She couldn't decide, and she didn't want to think about it. She nodded at Jack in agreement, and he smirked victoriously before promenading from the cabin dramatically, with Gibbs at his heels.

Sitting slowly back down, she began to develop an anxious squirming sensation in the pit of her stomach. She was worried about Jack, she realized horribly, placing a hand over her tense belly to ease the pathetic feeling. She actually quite liked him, and genuinely cared for his safety, now.

And for that, she was furious.

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**A/N:** OMG, Carlotta, you idiot. You've betrayed yourself already, in only chapter seven?! How pathetic can you BE, already having feelings for such a f-ing bastard, eh?! WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU, GIRLIE?! ARRG!! 

Ah well! Hope you enjoyed!! Thanks so dearly for reading, my sweets!! I'd greatly appreciate a review, too! I LOVE to know what you guys think!


	8. Literate but Cruel

**A/N:** ALRIGHTY!!! Here we go again. I've decided to do this thing where I switch between updating this story and my other story (The Affair... it's a Ginny/Draco story, of the Harry Potter series... yay...), so that I'm sure to update that one more. See, I've been so wrapped up in this one that I haven't even TOUCHED that one in like MONTHS!! So that is my plan. I hope it helps to get that other story DONE. I do so badly want it done. Aaarg.

Anyway, a bit of this chapter is rooted in Sweeney Todd... I betcha you can guess which part. XD lol. THANKS FOR READING!! Enjoy the chapter, my darling doves!! Now please, if you want to understand one part of this chpater, READ THIS POEM:

**A Man to his Mistress **by Margaret Cavendish

O do not grieve, _Dear Heart_, nor shed a Tear,  
Since in your Eyes my Life doth still appear;  
And in your Countenance my Death I find,  
I'm Buried in your Melancholy Mind;  
But in your Smiles I'm Glorified to Rise,  
And your pure Love doth me Eternalize:  
Thus by your Favour you a God me make,  
But by your Hate a Devils Shape I take.

* * *

Carlotta felt restless. She could hear the distant movement and voices of Jack's crew on deck, and imagined being among them, lending her inexperienced hand, and being shooed away for it. She was ashamed of her clumsy crew work, but she wanted to help, all the same. She was eager to please. She was happy to be stuck here in Jack's cabin, as opposed to being out there as they pulled up to an innocent passerby to pillage their ship, but she missed Jack's company when she was not there with him. The fact of it made her skin crawl, but it was true—pathetically true. She shook her head at herself, staring down at her feet as she sat at the edge of the bed. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, feeling her pulse strongly in the crater at her shoulder. 

Her stomach was rumbling. She prayed that Jack would bring her food eventually. But there was nothing here, so she could not eat now. She could not sleep, either, for it seemed she had done nothing but sleep since she'd been stabbed. It was making her crazy. She needed a distraction. She needed Jack's company again. She took much pleasure in his eccentric and dramatic behavior. It made her happy.

As an odd warmth crept through her system, she blushed shamefully. She couldn't believe that her time at sea with Jack had only been about five days. How strange it was that after such a limited amount of time, she could already feel so amiable towards him.

She cleared her throat as though the sound would rouse her from her unwelcome thoughts about Jack. She stood slowly and carefully so as not to hurt her shoulder too much, and began to wander about the cabin, letting her hands roam curiously over everything she passed. She needed a distraction, and the plethora of ridiculous gadgets and instruments around Jack's cabin was plenty for her. He had a whole assortment of beads in a small, purple pouch on his desk. Several sparkling coins sat in a teetering pile beside it. Strewn across the desk were papers with drawings of land masses she'd never heard of, and arrows that twisted and turned in complicated patterns that she did not understand. There was a small, cracked hand-mirror hidden behind some of the mess, decorated with fragmented pearls around its aged frame. It was missing some, in places, but Carlotta still thought it beautiful. An inkwell stood half-open at the corner of the desktop, a pen protruding from its opening.

At the opposite end of the cabin, she made an unusual discovery: a squat little bookcase built of a fine, dark wood. She knelt carefully before it, smiling at the title of each book. She had never taken Jack as the sort of man to keep books—but then again, she supposed he was certainly not the sort of man who should ever be prejudged. She shrugged to herself, running her pale fingers along the books' spines. They were old and worn, as though they had been handled often. He had great novels shoved amongst one another, books of poetry, and known plays, as well. Some names she recognized, but many were completely unfamiliar to her, and she found herself impressed by Jack's literary appetite. He had multiple pieces by William Shakespeare. She had read only one of the genius playwright's vast collection—the beautiful and heart wrenching _Romeo and Juliet_—which her mother had presented her the previous year, on her sixteenth birthday. Her heart constricted. Thinking of her mother was painful still.

Selecting a work that she'd never read, Carlotta ambled over to Jack's bed once more. She sat slowly, and balanced the volume on her knees. The unfamiliar writer she had chosen was called Margaret Cavendish, who turned out to be a romantic poet of the last century. Carlotta crossed her legs and shifted to make herself more comfortable, leaning against the headboard while she sat on Jack's pillow. Settling in, she flipped to the first poem, and began to read.

She took greatly to Cavendish's words. She wrote tremendously about love, though so little in the favor of marriage. She wrote about science, and the motives behind human emotion and action. Carlotta grew very fond of this woman, and she wished dearly to have such insight into life and love the way Cavendish did. What other women had ever been credited in literature, Carlotta wondered? How sad it was that her sex got so little recognition, when there were great women like this Margaret Cavendish—a woman published under her own feminine name, a doing hardly accepted by their masculine society. She sighed, turning the pages of the book with a heavy weight on her chest. Mrs. Cavendish wrote so fruitfully of love, and of how glorious it was, and of men who would turn devilish should their mistress ever retract her love from them. But she felt sorrowful as she read and reread the romantic poems, thinking of Jack. Jack never loved his mistresses. Jack had countless women, and loved none of them. Or did he love them all, so none was ever counted special in his heart? Carlotta did not know. She had no way to know. Jack loved the sea, and he loved his ship. Could Jack ever love a woman the way Margaret Cavendish thought a man should? She doubted it. But then, Jack was clearly not a man to have presumptions made of him—for one thing, she would never have thought he'd have kept her aboard his ship for this long; for another, she had certainly never thought him the type to keep books of such romantic poetry.

The sounds from beyond Jack's cabin door had grown to extreme proportions. She could not focus on the words before her for very long, for every few moments, there was a deafening blast that shook Jack's bed, and made her twitch in surprise. Soon, she could barely read at all, for her shoulder and head were pounding from the vibrations of the noise, her pulse beating on the inside of her skull with heavy ferocity. She placed Cavendish's collection upon the sheets of Jack's bed, and then she slid carefully from his pillow and back onto the floor. Standing again, separated from the romantic words that had drawn her into a fantasy world of love, she felt fear once more. What was happening outside that had such blasts and bangs exploding there? She swallowed anxiously, moving quickly to the door to press her curious ear to it, to perhaps catch any informative dialogue.

But she could hear almost nothing between the explosions of cannons and the shouts of crewmen. The words men yelled were incomprehensible to her. She could not pick Jack's voice out of the hubbub, and that frightened her. She needed to know what was going on. Her heart was pumping violently in her chest, numbing her ribs and making her jumpy and nervous, but she didn't care. She had to see. She had to know. She was too curious. It was a troublesome feature of hers that she could not shake, but she knew she would never care to, anyway.

She hurried to an ancient-looking chest of drawers in the corner of Jack's cabin, and slipped one of his loose shirts on over her head, though the movement greatly pained her shoulder. She ignored it, and scampered back to the entrance to the cabin. She leaned into the door, her sweating palm closed hungrily over the handle, and her cheek pressed against its dark wood longingly. Unable to stop herself anymore, she finally stepped back, and let the door swing open towards her. The screams and bangs that greeted her were frightening, and she clamped her hand on her shoulder to stop its aching as she took a step out into the din. She had never been up here on the deck of the _Black Pearl_, and she suddenly wished she could have seen it during a less hectic time. It was beautiful. Every appendage seemed to be carved masterfully, of a gorgeous ancient-looking black wood. But she had barely a second to be in awe before a pair of unfamiliar pirates grabbed her roughly from behind. She emitted a terrified screamed, her heart leaping furiously into her throat, and making her sick.

"Shut it, missy," grunted the shorter of the two as he spun her around to face them. His scraggly hair, yellowing eyes, and decrepit teeth gave him the appearance of a rotted corpse. His companion looked thin and sickly, and he was missing an eye. In its place, there was a round wooden eyeball that spun eerily in its socket as though it had a will of its own. She recognized them, suddenly, as two of Barbossa's old crew. That made them, now, a part of Jack's crew. They were on her side, then.

She let out a breath of relief as she realized this, and shook her head at them. "Why would you scare me like that?" she asked incredulously as her heart rate slowly came down to its ordinary level. "What do you want? Who are you, anyway?"

"Ragetti and Pintel, at your service," said the one-eyed pirate enthusiastically, gesturing to himself and his friend each in turn.

"We 'as been told t' keep ye in 'ere," snarled Pintel with a grin that Carlotta supposed was meant to be friendly, but came off as extremely lecherous.

"We's been told by th' Captain," Ragetti agreed repetitively, starting to nudge her towards Jack's cabin again. "Ye're to stay, an' not come out," he said.

Carlotta glowered at them. "Why not?" she asked irritably, trying to resist their prods toward the door.

Pintel laughed. "If ye know the Cap'n at all, ye should know a woman's presence would distract 'im."

"Likes to play the hero, our Cap'n Jack does," Ragetti chuckled, scratching his wooden eye with the knuckle of his thumb. The sight made Carlotta feel slightly ill. "Doubt if he'd be able t' concentrate if a woman were to get caught up in the middle an' get 'urt."

"But what's going on?" Carlotta queried anxiously, her tone becoming something of a desperate whine. "I want to know what's happening. I want to be able to help."

"There's nothin' fo' ye to do, missy," Pintel snapped, shoving her still further at Jack's cabin. "We 's pirates, lass, an' plunderin' a merchant ship's what we 's meant to do. An' that's what we're doin'. They 's jus' puttin' up a fight, is all. 'Tis a rare thing, but that's what they 's doin'."

"They're putting up a fight?" she questioned, clutching tightly to the doorframe on either side of her with shaking fingers. "Are we going to get through it? Is Jack okay?"

Pintel snorted in exasperation. "_Please_, pet," he scoffed. "Ha! 'Are we goin' t' get through it,' she asks? O' course we 's goin' t' get through it! Jack's taken down worse than this. 'E's killed Cap'n Barbossa twice, now, after all."

"And even so, Jack doesn't want me out fighting?"

"You're hurt, miss," Ragetti reminded her in a low voice that could almost have been called sympathetic. "Jack don't want you 'urt worse than you already is."

Carlotta's heart skipped a beat in its rhythm, and she felt her stomach do a somersault. Jack was violent, a filthy drunkard, a thieving pirate—but still, somehow, he managed to be considerate. She had never bargained for that. How had she been lucky enough to happen upon a pirate just as no-good as all the others, but with an unexpected streak of compassion? How had she been so fortunate? Whatever she had done to gain such an unlikely caretaker, she was glad for it, but she did not retreat just yet. She wanted to, certainly, but her need to be with Jack suddenly flared as a particularly loud and painful bellow from across the deck sounded, ringing in her ears. "Jack," she whispered, pushing suddenly passed Pintel and Ragetti to get to him. She could not see him, but she had to find him. "Jack!" she called desperately, her voice quite shrill. "Jack!"

She was unarmed, and still wounded from the last battle. These factors had her worried slightly, but this fight was far different from the previous one. This time, everywhere she looked there were unfamiliar seamen begging innocently for their lives, not trying to hurt her. Not this time. One of Jack's crewmembers, somewhere to her right, ruthlessly stabbed the man kneeling before him, and Carlotta watched him fall as another cannon blast shook the air. Horrorstruck, she backed away, gripping her shoulder protectively. How could pirates be so cruel?

Whipping around quickly at the sound of a high-pitched shriek, she finally spotted him. There he was, standing gloriously at the helm of the other ship, clutching their squat little captain by the scruff of his tunic. The man was struggling, his small, round fingers clawing at Jack's strong hand. He was choking, spluttering, begging, and Jack was showing no mercy. Carlotta developed the sudden sensation that some iron fist had closed over her lungs as she watched this horrific interaction. She wanted to yell, to intervene, to stop Jack's brutality, but she was rooted to the spot in terror. She could not open her mouth to shout at him, even, for she feared the consequences of doing so. She watched, horrified, as Jack held his cutlass to the man's throat, a malicious gleam in his eye. Carlotta fell breathlessly forward onto the _Black Pearl_'s side rail, supporting herself against it as she witnessed Jack's blade enter the soft flesh at the other captain's neck.

Nausea struck her instantly as the blood spurted like a fountain over Jack's steady figure. Completely unabashed, he shoved the sword deeper, and let it slide across the man's throat as the scarlet gush spilled over his hands and down his arms. Letting the man fall, Jack stared down at himself, panting heavily, observing the mess. He looked extremely put out. "We give no quarter!" he bellowed, his usually handsome face made grossly terrorizing by the dark red splashes that stained his features.

There was a rumble of excited agreement from the crewmen around her, and she whimpered, sinking to her knees with a detached feeling of disbelief and revulsion. Her insides were twisting together like writhing snakes in heat, and she felt sure she was going to be sick.

"Come along, pet!" Pintel's urgent voice summoned her from what seemed a great distance. She felt his cold, gruff hand on her uninjured shoulder, but paid him no mind.

Ragetti's bony fingers slipped around her wrists, and began to tug her away from the edge of the ship, where she was continuing to stare at Jack. He remained at the helm of the other ship, shaking off his bloodied arms disgustedly. "Come on," Ragetti told her softly, yanking her along the deck back towards Jack's cabin. "The Cap'n wanted ye inside, so that's where ye'll stay, right?"

"Murderer," was all she could say as she allowed herself to be dragged back into the captain's quarters. Her mind was on fire. It had been one thing to hear about all the men Jack had killed, and another thing entirely to witness him at work. It was sickening, and extremely disconcerting. She supposed that for a while, there, she really had been too naïve for her own good. Had she always been so naïve? She supposed she had never been in a situation in which that quality could ever be tested, but now, she realized, it was a damning attribute that she had to be rid of, or she'd be in for a world of trouble. For a while, she had actually begun to believe Jack was a trustworthy man, simply ignoring his piracy—his thieving, his plundering, his murdering. "Murderer," she croaked again as the door slammed after her. She was alone again, and glad for it. She didn't want to face Jack, having now seen how cruel he could really be. She didn't want to face that truth. She wanted back her fantasy that Jack could be a good man.

Across the cabin, she could see the book she'd left on Jack's bed. She idled over to it on quivering legs, feeling jittery with confusion. She picked it up, her fingers shaking, and glanced down at the romantic words on the page before her. Would she ever find love if she remained trapped on the sea like this, in the company of none but drunken, cold-blooded pirates? No. She doubted it. Jack could never love a woman. Jack loved his life of piracy far too much to ever love another human being with the kindness and delicacy that a woman would desire.

She shook her head, sitting back upon Jack's mattress carefully, and fidgeting with Margaret Cavendish's book. Her thoughts were making her furious. Was she feeling let down? Was that it? Was she disappointed about Jack's inability to love? She gave a small chuckle to her knees, her eyes watering slightly. Was she wishing that Jack could love _her_? Was that what this was all about?

_No_, she told herself firmly, _certainly not_. If anything, she was desperate—Yes, that had to be it. She had never been given the chance to get close to a man, so her needy heart was throwing itself at the first man who came along, no matter that he was a pirate. That was all it was, she decided, and now this nonsense had to stop. Perhaps she could request that Jack leave her at the next port, whenever and wherever that might be. She could start a new life there, somehow, she told herself. She had to. She couldn't stay with Jack anymore, living this ridiculous fantasy.

The door swung open suddenly, and she jumped, making her injury twinge a bit. She glanced up, and was met with a harrowing sight. Jack stood at the doorway in an intimidating stance, his legs spread and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was dripping in the deceased captain's blood, and his eyes were sparkling with frustration and dismay. When he looked up and caught sight of her, he froze, as still as death, his gaze locked painfully with hers. Her heart rate increased again.

She took a deep breath as they stared at each other, and cleared her throat. "You're a devil," she said calmly as she observed him.

For a moment, his eyes narrowed, and she thought he might shout at her, but he suddenly shifted, and began to move towards his dresser. "I'm a pirate," he corrected her in a flat tone. "And you're wearin' one o' me shirts."

Carlotta did not respond to that. She merely watched him, her eyes following him fearfully as he moved.

He cocked his head, glaring at her suspiciously as he unbuttoned his doublet and shrugged it from his shoulders. "What?" he asked irritably. "What're you starin' at? What did I do?"

She shook her head, letting out an involuntary noise of disgust. "Ugh, Jack," she sighed despairingly. "Look at yourself."

Jack let his doublet fall to the ground, then looked down at himself and prodded his blood-streaked shirt curiously. "What?" he asked again with a false innocence in his voice that was undeceiving.

"Don't ask me 'what?' You know what. Look at you, Jack. You're blood-soaked."

He shrugged, and began to peel his shirt from his torso. It had started sticking to his body with a mix of drying blood and sweat. "Well, 'e started it," he grumbled, ignoring Carlotta's angry stare. "Face it: I'm a pirate, lass," he said again, "and that ain't goin' to change, alright?"

"I know," she squeaked, "but do you have to be so cruel?"

"Look, I don't like killin' any more 'n you do." His brow knitted together, and he glanced awkwardly away from her for a moment in thought. "Alright, that's a lie. Ye'd prob'ly 'ave a harder time with it than me," he admitted, "but it's not as though I take great pleasure in it. I'm not like Barbossa. I'm not like a lot o' pirates, actually. It's been said I'm crazier 'n most, and fairer than 'em, too. I _told_ them sailors out there that I'd not hurt a soul among 'em if they jus' kept quiet and let it 'appen, but they revolted, and they fought back, an' their ruddy fool of a captain started tryin' to shoot down me _Pearl_. I jus' couldn't 'ave that, Carla. You know I couldn't."

She scoffed. "Of course not," she snarled sardonically, "because the life of another human being is hardly as precious as the well-being of a ship."

He rolled his eyes, making odd sounds of frustration as his shirt finally came up over his head and fell beside his doublet on the floor. "That's not how I meant it," he snapped. "I gave up me ship for the life o' me crew once before, y'know—sacrificed it so they'd be safe from the Kraken. So don't you be tellin' me I haven't got my priorities straight between piracy an' human life." He shook his head at her in disbelief, leaning away from her as though she were poisonous. "Is that what this is about, then?" he growled. "I care too much about me ship to ever care about a human bein'? Is that it?"

Carlotta opened her mouth to respond, but stopped. She hadn't expected him to so astutely infer how she was feeling. He seemed to understand her, however, from her lack of a reply.

"Ah," he said, swaggering towards her very slowly as he spoke. "So that's it, then. You think I'm a cold, heartless, unfeeling bilge rat with no right sense o' humanity. So even though I 'elped you escape from a man who'd 'ave ye raped and broken 'fore 'e killed ye, I took you in, I taught ye to be a good hand on board, an' saved your very life when you was bleedin' and dyin' right in me arms… even so, you still think I'm really so callous and cruel, and ye can't find any appreciation for me nowhere in your ignorant little heart?" He was only a couple of feet from her, now, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes on his face. If she looked away from those fierce eyes, she knew her mind would betray her, and she'd be overcome by lust again at the sight of his naked torso. This close to her, she could see the beads of sweat on his stomach and chest if she looked, and trace every muscle and scar. She swallowed, staring determinedly into his strong gaze.

"I don't… understand… why you have to kill," she said lamely. She didn't know what else there was to say.

"Ye don't have to understand it," he said, leaning forward so that his face was barely an inch from hers. Her heart seemed to stop. "But this is the way I live," he growled, "and ye'll either accept it, or get off o' my ship. Do I make myself clear?" His voice was so dangerously low, and his intimidating expression so furious that she could not bring herself to speak, for her throat had closed up in terror. She could only nod shakily at the man above her. "Good," he whispered, his lip curled in dislike.

He pulled his bloodied face back from hers, and she felt something slip from her hands. She looked down. Jack had removed Margaret Cavendish's poetry collection from her grasp, and on his way back to his dresser, he slid the volume back into its spot on his bookcase. She let out a cold, terrified breath that had been building within her. Her fingers were vibrating, and her heart was throbbing agonizingly against her ribs. She was not well off on this ship, anymore. How could she continue to live like this, in such fear of the man she served under? It was like being back at home, though she felt quite sure that Jack would never attempt to… but then, she could never be certain, could she? He was a lawless rogue, a ruthless pirate. She could not trust him.

And so she made up her mind, right then. "I want off," she said suddenly, looking back up at Jack, who was still very topless, and was wiping down his body with a handkerchief. He paused in his action to look curiously at her. "I want off of this ship. Kindly leave me at the next port."

He blinked once at her, and she thought she saw a fleeting expression of disappointment cross his face, but a moment later, it was gone. "You're still wounded, you know," he reminded her.

"That's okay," she croaked. "I can manage. It hurts a lot less, now."

"Well, you're in luck, then," he told her, returning to his cleaning. She watched the cloth slide over the muscles of his chest, and felt a very uncomfortable throb between her legs. "Our recent capture got us nothin'. They 'ad barely any rum, nor even a good lot o' medicines, neither. We'll be needin' to make port after all. The nearest to us now 's Nassau. We can drop ye off there, if that be your fancy."

She nodded meekly, her eyes starting prickle with threatening tears. She was so fond of Jack, but it was better this way, wasn't it? She'd be safer. "Yes," she replied quietly, and he turned away from her to rummage though his dresser for another shirt.

The pregnant silence between them made her feel extremely awkward, and for a moment, she thought she might as well go out on deck. But her legs would not move. She was frozen—partially out of a desire to take back her request, and partially out of fear. Finally, she cleared her throat, and he looked back at her, his black eyes swimming with something she could not decipher. "Jack," she breathed. "I didn't know you liked poetry."

His jaw clenched, and he turned away from her again to slip on his fresh shirt. "There be a good many things ye don't know 'bout me, sweetheart."

She smiled slightly, her face burning with emotion as she spoke. "You're a romantic, aren't you?" she questioned breathily, thinking of Margaret Cavendish.

He swiveled on his heel to face her again, and took several wide, dramatic steps in her direction. "No, darlin'," he said gravely when he was very close to her again. "I'm a cynic. I don't believe in love, I just find entertainment in the naivety of the human mind, and in those who do believe in things as far-fetched and outrageously impossible as love." His eyes traveled momentarily to her lips. "Savvy?"

Carlotta gave Jack a weak smile and nod as tears began to flood her eyes so that his face appeared slightly blurred. She swallowed. She did not believe him for a second. No one could have so many books about love and not believe in it, she decided. But she would not press the matter. "So how long 'till we reach Nassau?" she asked to turn the topic away from that of love, a subject that seemed to make Jack touchy.

He straightened himself up more, and brushed down the front of his shirt, staring at himself in his long mirror. "About half a day," he grunted nonspecifically, avoiding looking at her. And just as she opened her mouth to respond, he turned and left the cabin again, letting the door fall closed behind him with an echoing slam.

Feeling both hurt and relieved, she lay back down upon Jack's bed. She had only half a day remaining to be with him, yet he had left her alone. She didn't know how she felt about that, and her conflicting emotions suddenly swelled within her, on the brink of bursting. They put pressure on all of her senses, and her nerves were wearing thin. In an instant, she was in tears, crying softly into her palms.

And through her gentle sobs, she did not hear the door creak open again. She did not see Jack enter, nor did she notice him watching her as she cried herself into a light slumber.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading, my sweets! Reviews would be so very much appreciated!! Oh, and I haven't yet reread this chapter since I wrote it, so let me know if you find errors, or sentences that don't make sense or whatnot, 'kay?! THANKS!! I LOVE YOU ALL!! 


	9. The Need to Leave

**A/N:** OMG I'M SO SORRY!!! This chapter was going to be a LOT longer, but then I realized how long it had been since I updated, and decided to end it a little earlier so y'all could have your fill. lol. My goodness... it's been like forever since I posted the last chapter. I'm SO sorry. Do forgive me.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!! Thanks SO much for reading, my good fellows! Hope you're all well!

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The smell of the sea perforated her nostrils, arousing her senses. Her eyelids fluttered lightly, and she inhaled to soak in the comforting scent. Her eyes felt heavy and thick on her face, and she lifted a sore arm to rub them irritably. She felt her wet cheeks, and vaguely remembered that she had been crying. Apparently she had cried until she'd fallen asleep. _How pitiful_, she mused, emitting a low sound of exasperation. She was crying over a man she barely knew, simply because she had discovered the sort of man he really was—the fact made her dizzy with self-disgust. Shaking her head, she rolled over lazily, and finally opened her eyes. 

The first thing she saw—and it wasn't a welcoming sight—was the hovering and familiar face of a dark and disheveled pirate. Her entire body jerked uncontrollably in surprise at the sudden image. "Oh," she gasped, placing a hand over her heart to calm herself. "Sir… I'm sorry, you just…"

He smirked. "Sorry t' frighten ye, love," he slurred, "but we're nearin' Port Nassau. Thought ye'd be glad to hear it, and keen to get your bearings 'fore ye set off in an entirely new town without even a shilling or a friend to speak of. Excited, are you?" His tone was sour, but his expression haughty and unconcerned. He sat back lazily in the chair still propped at the bedside. It balanced on its back legs while he rested his grimy boots on his own sheets. The dirty soles were close to Carlotta's thigh, and she glared at them, feeling aggravated by his nonchalance.

"Are you trying to convince me not to jump ship, Captain?" she inquired, knitting her eyebrows together as she slid her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself into a standing position. He gazed up at her coolly, his eyes not betraying a single emotion. But then, she supposed, murderers weren't particularly emotional people. He swung his legs down from the bed, and his boots hit the floor with a dull clunk.

His posture was composed as he stood, his arms swinging flamboyantly as usual at his sides. "Wouldn't dream of it, darlin'," he told her, his eyelids drooping languidly. "Though it really is a shame, losin' such a pretty sight aboard. 'S not often one sees such a ripe maid like yourself on a pirate ship, let alone gets to indulge in 'er gentle company." His words went right to her throat, and she felt choked.

Swallowing, she shook her head. "Excuse me?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Never mind," he grunted, gesticulating dramatically at her to shoo her away from the bed. She did not move, but instead watched his hands as they fluttered about. They were clean of the blood that had stained them earlier, but they were still extremely dirty. He reached out and lightly pushed her out of his way so that he could flop down onto the bed himself. He let out an appreciative groan as his limbs went slack, and his eyes fell closed. "I have so missed this bed," he sighed to himself. Carlotta was not listening. She let him take back his bed without a word. She would have given it to him if he'd simply asked, but that was not her concern at the moment. Her eyes were still fixed on Jack's hands, and the image of the murder they'd committed was living tangibly inside her like a parasite. She noticed unhappily that the edges of his fingernails and cuticles remained crusted in dried blood. Her lip curled in disgust.

Tearing her gaze from his dangerous fingers, she looked back at his face. "You do understand, don't you," she asked, "why I want to leave?" Her tone possessed a hint of guilt. It was also thick with regret.

He squinted up at her. "Sure," he hissed with slight bitterness. "The pirate's life just isn't for everyone."

She shrugged, and let her lips tighten in an awkward smile. "Mm," she replied vaguely, wandering away from him and putting a hand tenderly to her shoulder to feel it. It hurt less than it had before, and she was thankful. But there was no denying that it was still painful, and she could not move too strenuously without feeling that sting sear through her. She glanced around the cabin to avoid looking at Jack again. "Er," she stuttered, "Captain? Where's my dress?"

"Don' ask me, love," he replied unconcernedly. "Why can't you wear what you're wearin' now?"

She looked down at herself. "You can't expect me to spend my whole life as a male, can you? Tortuga was one thing, but…"

Jack heaved a sigh, and sat up suddenly. "Ye'd probably be flogged in Port Nassau for it," he finished for her. "Yeah, I see your point."

Carlotta swallowed anxiously. "Flogged?" she breathed.

His eyebrows rose, and his lips retracted in a sneer. "Most o' the world isn't even half as open-minded as we pirates are, lass," he told her. "But it was your decision to go, and I ain't goin' to stop ye."

She shook her head, feeling it pound angrily. Her eyes were sore as she glanced about the cabin again to scan it for her dress. "You're sure you didn't take it with you from the other ship?" she asked hopefully, though she was doubtful. "I don't have any money for another, and I don't quite fancy wearing _your_ clothes for the rest of my days."

He threw back his magnificent head and gave a loud, barking laugh. "Have ye learned nothin' from your limited time here?" He searched her once over with his eyes before returning to stare pointedly into her face. "Apparently not, seein' as you still seem to figure me a murderer. I ain't no murderer, little girl," he snarled, "I 's simply a pirate, and you're simply too naïve for yer own good." He scoffed. "I'm a downright legend in Nassau, darlin'," he explained to her with a proud nod. "Sacked the entire port once before, an' I ne'er even killed a soul in the process. Didn't even fire a shot." His eyes sparkled, and Carlotta heart thumped loudly, wondering where he was going with this story. "If ye wanted a dress there, love, I assure you it'd be only too easy to get ye one." He stood slowly, and she gulped.

"Are you insinuating that… you would steal me a dress?" Her voice sounded extremely tense, for she felt as though she was suffocating. What kind of life had she damned herself to when she escaped Santiago with Jack? Was she really stuck in this life of thievery and lawlessness? She shook her head determinedly. "No, sir," she told him firmly. "I won't have you stealing in my favor."

He chuckled. "If you say so, Carla," he said with an unconvinced shrug. "Alright, then. No stealing." He narrowed his kohl-lined eyes at her, scrutinizing her face. "But there are other ways." He smiled at her apprehensive expression. "_Legal_ ways, like simply purchasing the desired dress with good, solid currency." He sniffed disdainfully at the thought. "If it pleases you, I can buy it for ye, seein' as you're poor as a dog at the moment. Actually, a dog in Nassau's prob'ly richer 'n you, even. Y' know, ye'd be a good lot better off if ye traveled as a lad. You could get a job… make some money to get yourself food, an' living arrangements. As a woman, however…" He glanced her up and down again. "Well, I'd hate to see a body that pure be forced into prostitution, but…"

Carlotta gave a small squeal, and threw her arms protectively around her torso "I wouldn't!" she cried. "I wouldn't do that!"

"Ye'd be surprised what women 'ave to do to keep themselves alive out there in the real world."

"My mother was a teacher," she said huffily. "She was a respectable teacher, and she had a family, and a life, and… she never needed to resort to that! Why should I?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Because you, unlike her, are in quite a rotten spot o' trouble, now, an' ye have no money, an' no one to take care o' ye, so you won't have much of another choice."

Fury rose in Carlotta's chest, and her uncharacteristic boldness was fueled again. "How dare you!" she spat heatedly. "I would _never_ submit myself to such degradation! How dare you even utter it?"

He chuckled cruelly, taking an ominous step towards her. "I dare a great many things, Carla, m' dear," he quipped. "But you listen 'ere, girlie. There are a rare few lasses I've met over time who I'd not appreciate to become a whore, and you're surely among 'em." Their eyes locked, and Carlotta's heart twanged uncomfortably. "You'd best not disappoint me, love."

She shuddered, and shifted awkwardly, fidgeting with the bandages under Jack's shirt that she still donned. "Well I certainly don't plan to," she mumbled, glancing away from him. What sort of an order was that? Don't disappoint him? By doing what? Becoming a whore? Well, she most certainly wouldn't be doing that any time soon, so if that was his meaning, he needn't worry. "I don't plan to live as a man, either," she told him stubbornly. "I like being a woman."

"Of course you do," he growled, moving still closer towards her. "Especially, I'm sure, after what your own father tried on you."

Her lungs went cold, and sweat broke out all over her dirty skin. "What?" she breathed painfully. "What… are you saying?" The memory was returning to her, and she didn't think she could handle it. It was making her ill—his face above hers, his bloodstained hands pinning her down, his drunken slur of threats being snarled into her ear… She couldn't stand it. She covered her face with her palms, fighting back a pitiful desire to cry again. "I'm still a woman," she squeaked breathlessly. "He didn't take that away from me. He hasn't stolen all my pride. He hasn't. I still love being a woman."

"Oh, bleedin' hell," Jack grunted. "Don't cry." She could hear the tenseness in his voice, and looked up, her eyesight blurred, but her face dry. His expression was uncertain. "All I meant was tha' if ye plan on livin' life in Nassau as a woman without money… you aren't goin' to have many options."

She nodded, feeling choked. "I know," she managed. "But I'll handle it."

"I bloody well hope so. I'd never forgive you if ye got raped. You're so delicate."

"I am not delicate!" she fumed, stomping her foot in another sudden outburst. "What makes you think I can't take care of myself, you nosy clod?"

Jack smirked at her rage, leaning back on his heels with his arms crossed as he swayed on the spot. "Now, now, darlin'," he warned, "is that really any way for ye to address your captain?"

She let out a wail of irritation, wringing her hands in Jack's calm face. "Oh…_you_!" she shrieked madly, suddenly losing her head completely. "_You_… _you_…! What would you _really_ do to me, anyway? What would you _dare_ to do if I were to talk down to you, _Captain_?" She could feel her pulse in every inch of her, she was so irrationally furious.

With one stride, Jack was standing directly above her. He collided with her outstretched hands, which recoiled to her sides instantly at the sight of his intimidating expression. This close to him, she could feel the warmth of his body radiate over her, and trace every line of his beautiful features if she tried. His chest was dangerously close to her face, and she struggled with herself not to touch him intimately. Glaring determinedly up into his wild eyes, she cursed herself mentally for being so attracted to such a rogue. Then again, she reminded herself, she was just as much of a rogue as he was. Her temper was high, her nerves were on edge, and she was feeling uncomfortably lightheaded with anger, yet her attraction to him was still evident. This made her even angrier, and her small hands balled themselves into fists as Jack gazed condescendingly down at her.

"You wouldn't care to know, love," he whispered hoarsely. He was so close that she could actually feel the heat of his rancid breath hitting her face. The sound of his gruff voice sent a pleasing sensation through her system, and her thighs began to ache. The forbidden place between her legs gave a painful throb, and she clenched her jaw to restrain her shameful lust. "You wouldn't want to know the kinds of things I could do to you." His dark gaze shot downward to her lips, and then again to her chest, which was heaving dramatically with her quickened heartbeat.

She swallowed. "You wouldn't hurt me," she said adamantly. "You wouldn't be able to."

"You've given me no reason t' hurt you, darlin'," he growled, "but don't think I couldn't. You'd be surprised how capable I am in the hurtin' of sweet, tender, vulnerable young ladies such as yourself." His crooked, handsome grin glinted at her in the pale light of his cabin.

For a moment, they were frozen in their position, both apparently without any notion of what else to do. Carlotta's heart was winding her, and the fact that she could feel Jack's heart beating in front of her was not helping her any. It made her long for him even more strongly than before, and that frightened her.

But then a fortuitous creak of wood resonated through the cabin, and Carlotta gave a small lurch of fright as she spun back to reality. She began to inch away from Jack, preparing to leave, when she felt his sudden grasp around her wrist. Shocked, she glanced down at his hold on her. Hardly long ago, she had witnessed that hand slit the throat of an innocent man, and now he dared use it to hold her to him? She fearfully shook her arm to get him off of her, but his grip was strong. Her heart nearly leapt out of her mouth as she recalled in vivid flashes her struggle to shove her father off of her. "Let go of me," she croaked. "Please don't hurt me."

He emitted a low chuckle from the back of his throat, and yanked her back towards him. She gasped loudly, blind fear striking her harshly. Her lungs opened up, and she let out an instinctive scream, but his hand closed over her mouth. The shock of this action was enough to shut her up, but he did not remove his hand. His fingers were rough on her lips, and she grew increasingly damp between her thighs. Her lust had mounted so high, that when he tugged her suddenly into his face so he could stare right into her eyes, an involuntary whimper of aroused desire escaped her. "I'm not goin' to hurt ye, love," he snarled, still keeping his palm pressed over her mouth. Her eyes were wide, and her nasal breathing heavy, but she nodded. Her heart was pounding so hard, and her stomach twisting so violently, she could have sworn she was going to be ill. At her nod, he finally removed his hand from her mouth, and as the air flooded her mouth again, she sighed gratefully.

His other hand was still clutched tightly about her wrist, but she did not struggle anymore. As terrified as she was, she believed him when he said he would not hurt her. She had never been so close to a man before, nor had she ever been so sexually attracted to one. Only her arm, captured at the wrist by his dominating grasp, separated them. If he had let her arm fall, she would have been pressed flat against Jack's strong body. She was disgusted to realize her unconscious longing for that closeness. Fear, confusion, wonder, and curiosity were tearing through her mind and body like a hurricane, destroying all rationality in their paths.

And then, to her utter bewilderment, Jack bowed his head and pressed his lips hard against hers. Her mind was blank, not registering what was happening. He lingered there only for a split second before shoving her away from him. He jerked his head towards the door. "We should be nearly there. Go on," he grunted. "I'll follow soon."

The realization of what had just transpired hit her suddenly, exploding in her skull like a cannon. "Sir…you…" she stuttered in tense disbelief. "What… was…?" A feeling of bitterness rose in her as she wished desperately that he had warned her, so she could have savored the feeling of it as it happened. But it had taken place, and now it was over, and the memory was already leaking away from her, no matter how hard she tried to retrieve it. "What… was that for?" she panted at last when she could finally string her words together properly.

He sniffed haughtily and fidgeted awkwardly with the fabric of his sash. "Call it my goodbye," he stated dully. He swallowed, and glanced at his floor. "Go on," he commanded again. "I'll follow you in a bit." At that, he swaggered away from her towards a separate compartment of his cabin.

Carlotta stood shaken and alone for several moments, wallowing in the events of the passed minute. How could he do that to her, and then just expect her to jump ship without a care? Did he assume her departure was easy for her? It wasn't. It was causing her regret she had not believed it was possible to feel. She never thought she would grow so attached to someone in her escape from Santiago—let alone to a murderous, alcoholic pirate. But her initial decision had been a sensible one, and she had to get away from him, now. If she didn't leave at this point… well, if she let things go further than they already had, she could find herself in the kind of serious trouble that she never wanted. She'd never wanted this life of piracy, nor had she ever wanted to become emotionally involved with anyone. But within the last week, she had both joined a pirate crew, and grown to actually care about her captain. Her captain who—though charming and fair—was lecherous, cruel, and had no love to give but to his dear ship. Her heart contracted, and she bitterly kicked the wall nearest her in a moment of overwhelming woe. "Curse him," she muttered under her breath. The bastard had her heart, she realized tragically. She felt numb all over. This was a pathetic fantasy, she reminded herself, and it had to stop.

Straightening herself up, she inhaled deeply. The rush of her breath caressed her lips, accentuating the cold dampness Jack had left there. She wiped her mouth urgently on Jack's sleeve, groaning with dislike. This nonsense had to end, she decided. Finally exiting the cabin, she breathed in the engulfing smell of the sea. It was mingled, now, with that of smoke and animals, and the lazy prattle of townspeople met her ears. As she stepped further out onto the deck, she saw they were pulling up to the dock of a vast and colorful port.

She felt her blood freeze as she heard the anchor drop with a crank, splash, and muffled thud. The reality of leaving Jack was finally sinking in, and she discovered the pathetic extent to which it was hurting her. She shook her head at herself. If he was able to reduce her to such hopelessness within merely a week, then she really_ did_ need to get away from him—before things got any worse than they already were.

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**A/N:** Uuurg, I know, I know... cliffhangers are mean! How dare I?! lol. Don't worry, I'll update as soon as I can, my sweets! Hope you enjoyed it, though!! Reviews would be appreciated! Thank you dearly, my lovelies!! Weeeee!! 


	10. Nassau

**A/N:** Awww! I just watched Blow, and now I'm all sad. Waaah. Oooh, and now I'm curious... what're YOUR favorite Johnny Depp movies/characters?? Definitely Pirates, for me... that much is obvious, lol... but I'd have to say Secret Window, too, and (of course) Sweeney Todd and Sleepy Hollow... and Blow, too, honestly, no matter how sad it makes me. Arrrg, there are so many other FABULOUS ones... I just can't choose!! Ah, well. Let me know! I'm so curious, now! XD lol.

Alright, now I know this chapter seems like mostly just filler, but it's real purpose is to build the relationship between Jack and Carlotta. I don't think it worked quite as I planned it, what with all the random strangers intervening--like the random wench and the old seamstress--but it had its reasons anyway, so I'm keeping it in. True, I could have cut this down a LOT more, but I reeeeally enjoyed the scene with the wench, and the old woman... well, that was just funny to learn a bit more about Jack's past conquests. Mwahaha. So here you are: eleven pages of unnecessary crap to keep you happy. Yaaaaay! Enjoy, my loves!!

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Nassau was a very average sort of port. It smelled of ordinary human odors, and the evening air was rich with the laughter of ordinary townspeople. Carlotta had her hair tied up beneath a sailor's cap again, and she stood stiffly with a forced scowl to give herself a more masculine impression. While her fellow crewmen debarked behind her, she gazed out at the little town. It was loud and cheerful, but Carlotta viewed it with solemnity. She didn't want to leave Jack. It would be better for her in the long run, but she was not happy about it. She sighed, taking in her surroundings sadly. Several whores stood off to the sides, pointing at the crewmembers of the Black Pearl with interest, whispering and giggling behind their dirty hands. Drunken men were leading cackling women into the shadows, while some merely sat around in circles laughing raucously amongst themselves. It was like any other port, Carlotta mused. There was nothing to fear. Into the far distance, she could see that the twisting streets were less crowded. But nearest the dock, taverns and shops of all sorts were packed full of giddy people. She swallowed nervously, watching a man shove a very bored looking woman up against a nearby wall. It certainly seemed like a nice enough town.

"Here we are, Carla, darlin'," came Jack's deep voice from beside her. She flinched slightly at the sudden sound, her heart rate climbing in shock. He chuckled. "You're too easily frightened, love," he remarked with amusement. "You sure you can handle livin' on your own out here?"

She nodded firmly. "Of course," she whispered shakily. He laughed, and shoved her forward with an exuberant gesture.

Her knees buckled as he pressed his palm into the small of her back and tried to push her towards the heart of the port. His fingers were extremely close to the stinging wound at her shoulder, and she nearly lost her balance. She threw out her arms quickly, however, and was able to steady herself before she fell. Jack did not apologize. "Let's go, lass," he ordered, snatching her elbow in his grip and tugging her importantly away from the docks. She followed him awkwardly, shuffling along at his side while he maneuvered her through the crowds and finally steered her into a brightly lit tavern. The jaunty tune of the fiddle players in the corner had hoards of people dancing, and they were all laughing and shouting to one another happily.

"Why have we come in here, Captain?" she asked him timidly, glancing around at all the drunken men in apprehension.

He laughed. "Why not?" Keeping his hold on her arm, he tugged her towards the musty old bar. Obnoxiously loud men were guffawing in Carlotta's sore ears, and they reeked of alcohol. The man on Carlotta's right smelt even worse than Jack, and that was saying something. She turned back to Jack on her left, who had somehow gained a mug in the past several seconds, and was already drinking deeply from it. She scoffed. "Would ye care for some, darlin'?" he questioned, holding out his drink to her. She raised her eyebrows. "Didn't think so." Smirking, he put the mug to his lips again, and lifted his head back to chug its contents. She gaped, watching him warily. He slammed the empty mug back onto the splintering wood of the counter, and grinned at her before quickly calling for another.

"How can you drink so much?" she inquired with a disgusted sigh. "It does terrible things to your state of mind, and I've even heard of a man who drank himself to death."

Jack's barking laugh rank in her ears. "Ha! I'm unaffected by it, darlin', ye must understand that. An' trust me—rum ain't the cause o' death, jus' the only way to make dyin' more bearable. It's the greatest cure for any malady, too, I've found. So don't you be tellin' me not to drink, missy, alright? Else I mightn't be so inclined t' show ye around or buy ye a dress." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're certain you wouldn't like a taste? Just a sip, love. Ye'll feel a great deal better, I promise you."

She stared at the mug he had thrust under her nose. She whiffed its strong scent, and coughed delicately. "It ruins people," she said.

"Some," he agreed. "Those who are stupid enough to let it ruin 'em, anyway."

She glanced up at him. "But not you, hmm?"

"Aye. Not me. I 's completely unaffected by rum, darlin'. It ain't never done me harm, nor shall it ever. It's me dearest an' truest friend."

"And it doesn't bother you that you've come to need it to sustain yourself?"

"Why should it? 'S good. Makes me feel good. Makes the world more better in general. I like it."

Carlotta groaned, rolled her eyes, and pushed the rum out of her face. She shook her head. "Why am I here?" she wondered aloud. "I'm free, now. I don't have to put up with you like this anymore."

"Free t' do _what_, dearie?" he slurred, swaying as he finished off his second mug. "Ye got no money. No help. Nothin'. All ye've got is me, love, an' I'm willin' t' help. _That_'s why ye're still here."

As though to fuel Carlotta's desire to slip away from him, a young woman in a ratty dress flung herself into Jack's arms. "'Ey, sir," the wench said in a loud, drunken slur. "D' I know ye?"

Jack glared down at her breasts, which were spilling almost entirely out of her swooping neckline. "Not that I recall, pet."

She threw back her head and let out a screeching laugh. One of her hands slumped onto Jack's chest, and trailed down his stomach teasingly. Carlotta's insides burned with fury, but she did nothing as the wench suddenly stood on her tiptoes, leaned against Jack, and took his bottom lip between her teeth. "Maybe not," she laughed, "but ye want to get t' know me, now, am I right?" Jack was smirking down at the wench, his smug, dark eyes cloudy with lust. His hand slid up her side and gently brushed the outline of her voluptuous breasts. The woman trembled in his arms, her laughter breaking with a moan as his fingers traced her nipples through her dress. Carlotta's eyes widened sorely, and a terrible, searing pain throbbed angrily in her skull. She bit her tongue, her fists clenched so tightly on the counter before her that they were shaking. She thought she might explode with sudden, unexplainable fury. Still, she continued to watch them.

Jack leaned forward, and bit the wench's earlobe. He chuckled, sneering. "You do not seduce Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he whispered to the quivering wench. "_He_ seduces _you_, an' on his terms _only_." His eyes were locked in a painful glance with Carlotta, even as he held the wench close to him. She watched him run his tongue along the full length of the woman's ear, and fought back the urge to be sick as the whore's hands disappeared between hers and Jack's bodies. But Jack reached between them and removed her hand with a scolding grasp around her wrist—a grasp Carlotta knew well, now. Jack's eyes were still on hers as he whispered to the whore, "Tonight is not your night, pet. Go find a more eager customer." The woman pulled away suddenly, looking outraged. With an offended snort, she flipped her hair over her shoulder snobbishly, and stalked off with her nose in the air. Her face looked quite flushed, and her skin was shining with a thin layer of sweat.

Carlotta was speechless. Jack's sparkling black eyes were still glued to her, and he was grinning wickedly. She wanted to say a million things to him, to yell at him, to be furious, or to at least ask him why he was grinning, but her throat seemed to have closed up in horror. He reached suddenly towards her face. For a split second, Carlotta thought he was going to kiss her again, and her heart gave a conflicted leap—but a moment later, he had placed his fingers lightly beneath her chin, and closed her mouth. She had not noticed she'd been gaping. "What's the matter, love?" Jack asked, still grinning.

"You…" she choked. "You… are unbelievable."

"I know," he said gleefully. "Aren't I?"

"No!" she hissed, her temper flaring again. "I mean… you're just… disgusting! You didn't have to tease that poor woman. She was only looking for some company." In truth, Carlotta was fuming at that damned wench, but she refused to let that on.

Jack glared at her, his eyebrows raised skeptically. "She was looking for _money_, my dear. She could ha' cared less 'bout me."

"So you decided to _tease_ her? Sir, she's still a woman, and teasing like that is just downright cruel to _any_ wanting woman."

He grinned suggestively, his gaze shooting to her chest again. "Ah, and you would know, wouldn't ye?" he mocked, shifting closer to her so she could feel his body heat again.

She groaned irritably and moved back from him and the bar, nearly treading on the shoes of a drunken man behind her who was singing gratingly at the top of his lungs. "I've had it!" she exclaimed, shouting to be heard over the din of the tavern. Her temper was suddenly overtaking her, and breaking free at last. "I've had it with you… You and your piracy! Your lawlessness, your lechery, your brutality, your teasing… It's driving me mad, and I've _had it_!"

"Oh, come off it, girlie," he said with an unconvinced laugh evident in his tone. Jack advanced on her, but she took a step further back to be swept away by the enthusiastic crowd. He stepped towards her again, but she continued to retreat, squeezing herself between dancing drunkards to avoid Jack. "Give it up, you damned crazy chit!" he yelled. He plunged his arm between a waltzing couple, and managed to capture the back of her shirt in his fist before she was nearly swallowed in the engulfing throng. The couple broke apart, swearing heatedly at Jack as he tugged the shrieking Carlotta between them and trapped her in his arms. She flailed in his grasp, groaning and squealing with irritation.

"Get off of me, you scoundrel! Get _off_! Let me go!" she screamed, slamming her fists into Jack's chest.

Jack's expression was chilling, but he had begun to sway as he held her, rather as one would cradle a child. "What is this, love?" he asked in a low, rumbling tone that did not match his gentle, calming actions. "'Sir,' 'Captain,' 'scoundrel…' What e'er happened to 'Jack,' eh?"

She let out a whine of desperation, her body surrendering to his controlling arms. Her heart was thundering hard in fear of the power he held over her, but for reasons she could not explain nor deny, she did not want to leave him. Not now—not here, with his warm, strong arms around her. Even though he made her weak and vulnerable, she took pleasure in his closeness. And so she gave up, heaving a resigned sigh as she fell limp against him. She shut her eyes and breathed in Jack's warm essence. It calmed her, strangely. "Oh please," she muttered. "It's not as though you call me by my name, either."

"I do so," he protested. His lips twitched in a smirk.

She scoffed. "My name is not Carla," she reminded him. His chest vibrated against her as he gave a low chuckle. She shivered, and instinctively slipped her hands around his back to pull herself closer to him as he continued to sway. Were they dancing, she wondered vaguely?

"If y' say so, darlin'," he slurred dismissively. "But ye used t' call me 'Jack.' Now I'm just a 'sir' again. 'S a bit degrading."

"It's not degrading," she told him. "It's respectful. The fact is that I don't… I don't want to come to think of you as my friend," she admitted weakly, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. "You were only my captain. Not my friend. You're not even civilized."

"Uncivilized, am I?" he grumbled harshly from above her. She felt his body swell and deflate tensely in a deep breath, and felt a pang of intimidation strike her. Had she insulted him? Was he angry, now? "Ye think pirates is uncivilized, do ye, pet?" One of his hands slid up her back—slowly, tantalizing her with intent. She shuddered, and her mouth opened wide in a silent gasp at the delicate caress. "That's really all y' think 'bout us, is it?" His hand found the long curls of hair that were spilling from her cap. His fingers embedded themselves deep into the tangles, and lightly twirled the soft strands at the base of her neck, making her sigh. He bent his head, and placed his mouth beside her ear so he could speak at a normal tone and still be heard over the roar of the boisterous crowd around them. "You think we pirates is nothin' but a bunch o' rotten…" He trailed his other hand delicately down her side. "…good-for-nothing…" He toyed with the hem of her linen shirt. "…vulgar…" His fingers slipped subtly beneath it. "…crude…" His fingertips were scalding against the untouched skin of her waist, and she let out an involuntary groan. "…unruly…" His lips touched her ear, and he growled. "…untamable…" He slid his palm up her bare side as far as the scrunching fabric of her doublet would allow, coming to rest somewhere on her ribs. She wanted to protest, but she was frozen in the moment by her treacherous pleasure. "…_uncivilized_ rogues…" His tongue met her earlobe, and she whimpered uncontrollably. "…unworthy of your supposedly innocent company?" His teeth scraped her jaw line, and her already quivering knees gave out entirely. Her limbs seemed to have melted. Jack gave a low, throaty laugh at her response. "I thought not," he concluded in a deep, triumphant rumble. And at that, he pressed his mouth to Carlotta's neck, and kissed her deeply, driving her absolutely over the edge with the feel of his tongue on her flesh. Completely lost in the intense sensation, her eyes rolled back, and she let out an unexpected moan as her body began to arch in his grasp. Within a moment, she was thoroughly soaked between her thighs. Her burning skin was flushed, and she was sweating like a madwoman.

Dazed and lightheaded, Carlotta panted to regain her breath and sense of reality. "Jack," she gasped desperately, pushing his head weakly from her neck. "Stop it."

Jack sniggered in her ear. "Why?" he whined, trying to push his hand further up beneath her shirt and doublet. But she took his wrist in her hand, and recoiled slightly from him.

"Because, Jack," she sighed, "I know I have no willpower against you, yet whatever might transpire between us… I know that I'd regret it later, as I've no future with you. I'm not a pirate."

"Who's said anythin' 'bout a future?" he sneered lecherously. "How abou' a little momentary fun?"

With a sudden burst of disgust and irritation, Carlotta shoved Jack away. "That's exactly what I'm talking about, Jack," she snapped. "We're too different, you and I. Intimacy is not casual for me, Jack. It's difficult. I longed for it, once, back when I had none of it, but now…" She swallowed back the memories fighting their way back to the front of her mind. "…I don't know that I trust it anymore. Rather as I don't trust you, in fact." She shook her head as the honesty spilled out of her in a rush. "My father ruined everything, y' know. He killed my mother. Did I tell you that? I saw it. I saw him holding her down, saw her screaming for mercy, saw him…" She shivered. "…I saw him cut her throat. He was so drunk. He was so drunk that he couldn't even coordinate himself properly. That's the only reason I was able to escape. He killed her, and I saw it, and he saw me watching him, so I ran, but he caught me, even though he was drunk. And he… he held me down, and he… he…" She was shaking with dry, silent sobs.

Feeling humiliated, she buried her face in her hands, her pulse racing with emotion. Jack took a cautious step forward, and she felt his arms surround her once more, embracing her sympathetically. The unusual kindness of the gesture touched her heart. She sniffled. "But I squirmed 'till I could reach something lying nearby me on the floor. I don't know what it was. I was too afraid to notice, or to care. So I smashed it over his head, and he rolled off, and I _ran_—to the port. To you. But even though I got away unharmed… It's like I'm ruined, now. I can't really explain it, and I don't think you'd understand or care, anyway. But I'm just too afraid to be intimate, Jack. I've never had a life that didn't involve serving my father, and now… Well, now I'm here with you, and it's just too overwhelming, Jack. It's too confusing. I can't do it."

They were silent for a minute, during which time Jack merely held her close. "I'm sorry," he said after a while. "Ye really are so innocent, darlin'. No one should e'er take advantage of ye."

She nodded, smiling contently in Jack's arms. "Thank you," she sighed genuinely.

He prized her away from him, holding her out delicately in front of him as though afraid his grip might hurt her. "Still lookin' forward to tha' dress, darlin'?"

Carlotta shrugged. "Not so much, anymore," she admitted.

He seemed taken aback. "Still want to leave the _Pearl_, though?"

She nodded gravely. "Yes."

"Plannin' to live as a male, then?"

"No."

Jack smirked. "Then ye'll be needin' a dress, Carla, m' dear, unless ye want so badly to stand out in such a closed-minded, God-fearing sort o' town?"

She gulped. "Not so much," she said meekly.

Smiling, he bowed slightly to her. "It'll be my pleasure, then," he told her. "Now stick close." At that, he began to move towards the door, barging his way through the swarms of drunken people. Carlotta kept close to Jack, hugging herself tightly as they pushed passed men who stank wretchedly of alcohol. Her eyes watered in disgust, but she kept her head, and a moment later they came out free and clear into the open night air.

Relieved to be free of the tavern's sickening atmosphere, Carlotta sighed and glanced up the road. "So you've been here before?" she asked Jack, who was staggering forward down the street as though he owned it.

He laughed back at her over her shoulder, walking in his usual, arrogant swagger. "Been here?" he repeated amusedly. "Darlin', I ransacked the place, and never even hurt a soul. I remember it as though it were yesterday." She had to skip slightly to keep up with him, and instinctively reached downward to lift her skirts before remembering she was wearing a sailor's attire. "You'll be pleased to know," he told her, "that it's a rare thing when I hurt a man on purpose. I'm a fair captain, sweetheart, an' I ain't ne'er been glad to kill someone. 'S a shame 'bout earlier. I swear, I'm really quite merciful, usually."

Carlotta's heart expanded, actually daring to believe him. He never did strike her as the type to kill—but then, he was a pirate, and one should never trust a pirate's word, no matter how compassionate he made himself out to be. The reasonable side of her was warring endlessly with her naivety, continuously admonishing her for staying by a man who was teasing her with false tenderness, which he would probably expend without a second thought if it might benefit him. And yet she followed dutifully behind him. She was stubbornly loyal to him—her unlikely but true savior. She was loyal to him the way she had been loyal to her parents, who had raised her and helped keep their family as prosperous as was possible. Her reason was seething at her in the back of her mind. _Just look at what your loyalty brought you. Despite your service, your father dismissed you, took advantage of your loyalty, and betrayed your trust._ Yes, it was true, but this could be a life for her! She could stay on the _Black Pearl_, and swear her loyalty to Jack. What could be safer than having a pirate crew on her side? _They're pirates. They're not on anyone's side but their own. You must understand that!_

But her internal battle ceased suddenly when Jack suddenly took a sharp turn, and stopped at the door to a small shop. Beyond the murky storefront windows, Carlotta could make out a frail woman hunched over a mound of fabric in her lap, poking at it fervently with a needle. The inside of the store, Carlotta could see, was lit by a single candle perched upon a table at the old woman's side. There was a small sign on the door which let them know that the shop was currently closed, but Jack pushed the door open anway, and bowed Carlotta inside before following her and letting it fall closed behind him. The little woman looked up at them from her spindly little chair. She appeared old, though not exceedingly. Her eyes were squinted in the dim light. "We're closed," she informed them irritably, raising her eyebrows suspiciously at them. She glared first at Carlotta, who was already preparing to apologize for the intrusion and exit, and then her gaze fell upon Jack. Her eyes widened. "_You_," she hissed. "I know you."

Jack appeared utterly bewildered. "Do ye, now?" he questioned.

"Oh, I couldn't forget you, Jack Sparrow," she grumbled, her expression extremely grave, and her voice very shaky.

He sniffed, and his lip curled. "That's good to know, really, but it's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, if ye don' mind, Madam."

The woman scoffed. "It's been over ten years," she said in a strained voice, "since you invaded Port Nassau, and my daughters are _still_ talkin' about you, ye bastard." Her scowl was furious.

But in spite of the woman's vicious stare, Jack perked up at the mention of her daughters. "Is that so?" he questioned. "Well I 's glad to hear it, but I'm afraid I really don' remember who your daughters are, so…"

"They're twins," she said dully in a dry, raspy tone. She gathered up her work from her lap, and stood slowly. Her face looked even more lined than it Carlotta supposed it should have because of the deep shadows cast upon it by the flickering candlelight. "Surely you remember _that_, Jack Sparrow." She looked greatly exasperated.

Jack, on the other hand, looked delighted. "Oh, bleedin' Christ, I _do_ remember 'em!" he exclaimed, throwing back his head to give a short bark of laughter. "Ah, the _twins_! I remember, now." His gaze became unfocused as he stared into space. "Can't remember their names for the life o' me, but they sure as hell was a nice pair for…" But the old woman cleared her throat, and Jack broke off with a smug, satisfied grin.

"You certainly made an impression on 'em," the woman snarled, shoving the bundle of fabric away from her and crossing her thin arms. "So yeah, I know who ye are, and you aren't welcome here—not you, nor any friend of yours. So get out."

"Oh, bloody hell," Jack mumbled in unconcerned annoyance, rolling his eyes and taking a step towards the woman. "We just need one thing from ye, an' then we'll be on our way."

Carlotta whined behind him. "Jack," she pleaded, "it's really alright. I don't need it. I'd get on better as a man, anyway."

The woman clutched her chest, her eyes widening slightly. "Ye ain't a man?" she gasped. "Oh, a cross-dressin' woman won't last long here."

"Precisely why we're here, Madam," Jack said. "Just get my friend here a nice dress, my good woman, and we'll be quickly out o' your graying hair."

She spat on the floor at Jack's feet. "I won't help you. You sacked our town."

Jack rolled his eyes again. "That was… what… eleven, maybe twelve years ago? Time passes, love. We've all got to move on, sometime."

"You stole my daughters' good reputation!" she cried. "They were only thirteen—" Carlotta raised her eyebrows. "—an' you plucked 'em! They were so innocent. They could have been so well in life. But you ruined them!"

"Well, they didn't exactly protest," Jack retorted brusquely.

The woman wailed. "Oh, you wretch! I shall call the authorities!"

"You shall _not_," Jack countered, and Carlotta watched as he pulled his pistol from his sash, and readied it with a resonating click. The woman's expression become suddenly stony, her eyes slightly crossed as she stared into the barrel pointed at her forehead. She swallowed nervously, and sweat began to form on her brow.

Carlotta felt a pang of sympathy for her, then. "Jack, don't hurt her," she groaned. "Let her be. Come on, let's just go, shall we?"

"Listen to your friend," the woman begged seriously, nodding slowly as she kept her eyes on the pistol.

Jack clicked his tongue as though to scold the woman, and shook his head condescendingly. "Come off it," he growled. "I'm not going to hurt you. I don't like to hurt people, my dear. All I wanted to do was to come in 'ere an' pay ye a good pretty penny for a nice, simple dress, but since you're so unwilling to comply, I 's afraid I've got t' do it this way, then." The woman was shaking and whimpering, and Jack's expression was weakening in its intensity. "Now," he said more softly, gesturing with his free hand to the stacks of dress material around the musty room, "is this all ye've got here?"

"We've a back room, too," she replied with a frightened squeak. "Please, let me go, Mr. Sparrow."

He smirked, and lowered his pistol. Carlotta hadn't realized how violently her heart had been pounding until now, when it finally began to resume a normal pace. "Go," he commanded the woman, nodding to the front door. "You've been a wonderfully agreeable host, an' now you're free to go." She released a deep breath that she seemed to have been holding in throughout this entire interaction. She rushed away from Jack gladly, but paused at the door, and turned.

"You ought to be trampled an' consumed by rabid animals. It's the least ye deserve," she told him. Carlotta nearly laughed, but didn't out of respect for Jack.

Jack actually _did_ laugh. "I haven't done anything to ye, an' already ye want me dead. Now, is that fair?"

"You sacked my entire town! You soiled my daughters' livelihood!"

"I sacked this town," Jack agreed, sounding extremely edgy and impatient, "but I never even fired a shot. I took countless women in this bloody port, woman, an' your daughters was only two of 'em. It wasn't unlike any other town I've so notoriously sacked. Now get out."

At that, she fled, her thin body shivering in terror as she went. Carlotta gaped openly at Jack, her face contorted in disbelief. "You're a devil," she said disgustedly, turning her back on him to start rummaging through the stacks of feminine clothing.

"So you've said, darlin'," he said unconcernedly. "Ye should jus' be grateful I let 'er go. She knows me, bu' I let 'er go anyway."

"You stole the virginity of two thirteen-year-old girls," she pointed out to him, trying not to let on how much this fact bothered her.

He scoffed. "They weren't the first—or the last—I've stolen. Besides, thirteen ain't so young, anyway. They was all grown up, by then. Most girls is married at that age, as it is. I was surprised they weren't."

Carlotta felt her cheeks burn. "You corrupted them too early," she spat. "By tainting them, you ruined their chances of marrying."

Jack laughed at her back. "Who says they never got married after that? Did the old bat say such a thing? No."

"They should have been getting married," Carlotta went on, ignoring him, "not fraternizing with pirates. How could you have let it happen?" Her tone was bitter. She had never married, and now, she probably never would.

"Oh, shut it. The chits wasn't so bloody young! Thirteen-year-old girls is usually married 'n' already plucked. So these little girls weren't married… who cares?"

"I care, Jack. It was selfish."

"They asked for it!"

"Oh, I sorely doubt that."

"What? Is it so difficult for you to believe tha' girls yer age could actually give in to my stunning good looks and irresistibly seductive charms? It happens, y'know. It happens quite often, 's a matter of fact."

Choosing to ignore his vanity, she sighed. "Girls my age? I'm far passed the age of thirteen, thank you, Jack."

Jack's eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows rose high on his forehead, nearly vanishing beneath his bandana. "How old are ye, then?"

She blushed, and tightened her hold on the skirt of a soft dress in front of her. "Recently seventeen," she divulged meekly, embarrassed by her increasing years. It seemed the older she got, the less likely it was that she'd ever marry—and now, with the unexpectedly dramatic turn her life had taken, she supposed it would never happen. She'd be an old maid for the rest of her life.

"Is that so?" he questioned with an amused chuckle. She heard a loud clunk, and spun around. Jack was overturning shelves and trunks, and hunting through their contents with eager hands. She rolled her eyes at Jack's thieving nature. "Tha 's about the same age Elizabeth was at when I met 'er, I believe. She was betrothed at that point. O' course, she later left 'im for the man she _really loved_—" He spat the words as though they put a foul taste in his mouth. "—but she was betrothed nonetheless."

Carlotta nodded, remembering a conversation they'd held some days ago. "Ah, that's right. She was the woman who sent you to your death with a kiss."

He snorted. "That'd be her," he growled sourly. "Damned wench," he muttered to himself. "I was a blithering idiot to trust 'er. I never puts me trust in no one, but… I was a right barmy fool, with 'er."

"You didn't… love her?" Carlotta asked cautiously. The last time they'd spoken of Elizabeth, she'd asked him the very same question, and he'd laughed it off. But the bitterness in his tone whenever he mentioned her still made her wonder.

Jack gave a dry laugh. "Oh, please," he scoffed. "Not a chance, love. Not a chance."

Watching Jack rustle through the old woman's things, Carlotta couldn't help but find her curiosity piqued again. She held her breath, trying not to let her annoying questions burst free again. She didn't want to upset him. Soon, he'd be sailing off without her, and she wanted him to remember her well. Several moments passed during which Jack fished out an old bottle of amber liquid from beneath a mound of patched fabric, and Carlotta suddenly found it impossible to contain herself anymore. "Oh, Jack," she sighed dreamily, throwing herself into the tableside chair that the resident of the shop had been sitting in before they'd arrived. "Haven't you _ever_ been in love?"

"Of course, darlin'," he told her in a low rumble, his eyes suddenly fixing themselves to her face. She flushed pink as their gazes met, and he dropped into a chair at the other end of the table.

Her eyes widened, and her heart was aching. "You have?" He smiled wryly, but made no other indication to respond. "Tell me, Jack," she requested meekly, leaning towards him over the table with her fingers linked and her neck craned as though listening eagerly for the telling of a beloved fairytale. Her expression was so soft, and his so cold, that the two seemed suddenly like an extremely unlikely pair to be seated alone together. His eyebrows arched, and his darkly lined eyes narrowed calculatingly at her. But still she continued to wait, despite his patronizing stare which appeared so haunting in the dim candlelight.

He sighed, and looked down at the fingernails on his muscular digits, clasped desperately around the bottle he'd discovered. Putting it to his lips, he clasped the cork between his teeth and removed it with a squelching sound that echoed in the empty store. He spat it out to his side, and then took a long, deep swig from the bottle. She held her tongue to keep herself from chiding him for his drinking habits again. When he finally slammed it back down onto the table, it clunked hollowly; he had clearly downed the entirety of its contents in one go. He twitched with a small hiccup, and when he leaned his elbow on the tabletop between them and waggled his finger in her face, it was with slightly less reserve. Indeed, his hand seemed less in control of itself as it fell into her curls, and lightly stroked them, leaving her dazed as she continued to watch him—still waiting for his reply.

And at long last, he spoke, after another sigh. "Oh, Carla, Carla, Carla," he reprimanded gently. "Me first and only real love has always been, and will always be, the sea, m' dear. I fell in love with her as a lad, and I never got over 'er. She's been me wife and mistress since the day I became a privateer as a young boy, and she ain't ne'er changed."

"You were a privateer?" she piped, unable to control herself. She put her fingers to her lips in embarrassment, realizing she had interrupted him. "Apologies, sir," she said. "Do go on."

"I was," he confirmed, nodding heavily so that the many odd trinkets in his hair rattled and clinked. "But then I got smart. An' I was too _good_ for 'em, as well. I wouldn't do their dirty work no more." He looked suddenly bitter, and his fingers tightened in her hair, making her flinch slightly. "So I tried to get out of it. I did what I always do—I tried to negotiate and run. But neither worked. An' that's when…" He let out a low, rumbling snarl, rather like that from an enraged hound. Finally removing his hand from her hair, he shook back his sleeve, and clutched his wrist. Carlotta stared down at the distinct P-shaped burn on his arm, there. It made her sick. She imagined how it happened—imagined nameless, faceless navy men pinning Jack down, or holding him still while he was shackled. She imagined another of higher rank approach, imagined an expression of deepest loathing cross her imaginary Jack's features, and then of pure agony as the red-hot tool was pressed to his quivering forearm. It frightened her, and made her ache for him. In a moment of deep sympathy, she placed her hands on his arm. Her fingertips collided with the P permanently etched there, and she stroked the mark gingerly. A strange shiver passed over Jack's face, and his expression was suddenly much darker than it had been. "It's their own fault I became this," he garbled. "An' I'm certainly glad for it. But," he added more loudly, addressing her again, "that's a story not for today."

Carlotta smiled warmly. "You were saying how you were in love," she reminded him, as he looked suddenly bewildered at his very existence.

He gave a deep, hearty chuckle. "That's right!" he exclaimed. "Right! I was in love with the sea. An' she was jus' perfect, love, I'm tellin' ye. She was perfect for a good long span o' time, 'till o' course that blasted day when me ship sank to the depths. I was in a dark place at that point, love. A dark, unhealthy sort o' place. The sort o' place where men come face to face with the horror of their own lives, y' know? That's where I was at that time. It wasn't good, Carla. It wasn't good. I made a deal with the devil, so to speak, I was jus' so desperate. Would ha' done anythin' to feel powerful again. An' the _Pearl_ was raised! An' things were good again, for a little while, 'till Barbossa stole me ship and I was forced to steal me ol' friend's boat. She wasn't too happy, I assure ye. O' course, that boat was failure, and I wound up stranded in Port Royal. An' this was the event that brought a most distressing creature into me life, jus' to drive me mad, an' test all me limits an' morals." He heaved a pathetically dramatic sigh. "I _almost_ loved her, y'know. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. But I _almost_ did. I actually trusted her. Damn my foolishness. I actually trusted the bleedin' wench—'till she prodded at me weaknesses to seduce me, an' finally shackled me to a doomed ship, thereby sentencing me to my demise. An' there I died, with her betrayal haunting my thoughts in me very last moments of a saner life." He snorted, and started to pick his cuticles. "O' course, e'er since then, I've held nothin' but dislike for the lass—'s well as for 'er good-for-nothin' husband… stupid an' noble as he is. Ever since then, I've also been nothing short of _mad_." He gave a short, derisive cackle, his eyes slightly crossed.

"Oh, Jack," she whispered, wanting to console his melodramatic drunken rant, but not knowing what to say. It had come so suddenly, out of the blue, and she had no idea how to react.

"Damn that Elizabeth. I never wanted to be so vexed by a woman. A simple woman—no, a _magnificent_ woman. Royalty, she was. She _is_. She isn't dead or anythin' like that, we've simply… parted ways. She's the Pirate King, y'know. Courtesy of yours truly. She's also married… to the captain o' the _Flying Dutchman_."

Carlotta nodded gently, and glanced awkwardly away from Jack's face. She stared instead at the place where her fingertips met the burn on his wrist. The touch was causing her insides to churn. "So you _did_ love Elizabeth," she sighed.

"No!" he exclaimed wildly, tugging his arm from beneath her hands. In their absence, her fingers trembled slightly before collapsing disappointedly onto the tabletop. "Haven't you been listening to me, lass? I did not love her. I could never. She loved her bloody Mr. Turner far too much, anyway. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. I've never been so damn turned around by a mere woman."

She sniffed emotionally and shrugged. "Well, apparently, she wasn't just a mere woman. She clearly _meant _something to you, and that's saying something."

"I… did _not_… love her!" His expression suddenly contorted with defensive fury. "Do you understand me?" He looked so fearsome, she could not contradict him. She went rigid in her seat, her eyes wide with apprehension under his terrible gaze.

She nodded. "Yes," she gasped. "Of course. I'm sorry, sir."

Jack's eyes narrowed at her, and he leaned away from her in his chair. He took up the bottle from the table, and examined it contemplatively. Then, without warning, he stood and threw the bottle angrily against a wall, where it shattered echoingly. Carlotta flinched, and gave a small whimper. "Aren't ye glad to be gettin' away from me, lass?" he grumbled. She looked up at him. He was fuming. She didn't know what to say. "I should go," he said gruffly, looking down at his front as though he didn't know what to do with himself. "Leave ye to your new life."

Carlotta glanced back at the numerous dresses. She still hadn't chosen one. She stared at the fabrics that seemed a reminder of the life she once had—with dresses and parents and a simple life. But could she really go back to that, after what such a life had done to her? It had gotten her nowhere, and eventually destroyed all she ever did have: her dignity. She swallowed, and tore her eyes from the dresses. Jack was already moving towards the door. "Wait," she said, her voice cracking. He paused, and she stood. She stared at his back. She cared about him—there was no denying it anymore. She was intrigued by the freedom of his life, and she could not deny how much she craved to be a part of it. When he ached, she sympathized, and when he smiled, she felt glad. It could not be helped. He was a likeable character, and she could not resist the friendship she felt forming unexpectedly between them. She did not know if he felt it, too, but _she_ certainly felt it, and did not want that to end. She'd never had friends before, and she liked the feeling too much to possibly give it up now.

He turned back around, swiveling slowly on his heel with a manic grin plastered over his shadowy face. His black eyes danced eerily in the candle's glimmer. "Changin' yer indecisive mind, darlin'?" he slurred, taking a precarious step towards her. "Knew you would. A girl such as you, what with so much… _curiosity_… couldn't possibly resist my devilish charms."

She smiled, not knowing what else to say, and he emitted a low, breathy laugh before turning back to exit the little shop. Carlotta followed eagerly at his heels, feeling extremely glad to be leaving the store without a dress in her possession. She loved her femininity—but she was pleased to not be confined by it.

The door shut behind her with a muffled thump, and as she took another several steps, she found herself suddenly colliding with something hard. She let out a sound of confusion, and looked up to discover that Jack had stopped in his tracks. "What—?" she began, but fell silent a moment later.

Standing all around them was a cluster of soldiers who all had their muskets aimed directly at Jack's heart. Carlotta froze, her own heart leaping fearfully into her throat. She nearly screamed, but terror had her too stunned to make a sound. Jack slumped in front of her, his fingers twiddling in awkward apprehension. The soldiers were stiff, all holding their weapons at the ready.

"We've orders to shoot if you try an' escape, Jack Sparrow," one of them shouted. "Just move and you're dead."

Jack sighed. "Oh bugger," he mumbled. "Not again."

* * *

**A/N:** Hmmm... as I read this again, I realize that my Jack is really a lot more brutal than the movie-Jack. Why is that? I donno. I think the fact remains that I have problems writing comedy, and Jack is SUCH a comical character, so I immediately end up accidentally making him less amusing than he really should be. I'm so sorry about that. All I can write is melodrama. It's a shame, but it's true. Grrr. Oh well. The next chapter will be better (I hope). Thanks for reading! Reviews would be much appreciated!!


	11. Unexpected Surprises

**A/N:** Oh my god, I feel sooooo bad for not having posted in so long. I've had the most TERRIBLE writer's block, like... ever. I wrote a little bit of this story every day since the last time I posted, I'm serious, it just took me this long to actually finish it!! The whole chapter reads so... FORCED. It's obvious I was having writer's block. This chapter was soooo hard to write, for some reason!! I think it was the fighting. I don't do fight scenes. Aaaarg!! So I'm sorry about the bad writing on this chapter. It was supposed to go on longer, actually, but I just felt guilty for not having given you lot any updates in a long time, so I decided to post it as it is. Sorry about the cliffhanger AGAIN. Ugh. I've got midterms this week... yaaaaaay... so I bet I'll be starting the next chapter real soon. I hope the next one doesn't take me quite as long as this one took me. Yikes.

Oh, and I haven't edited it at all, because I am sick of this chapter and want it DONE, and can't stand to reread it, so if you catch anything wrong, please let me know and I'll greatly appreciate it! Thanks!! And thanks for sticking with me!!

(Lol, Sweeney Todd on DVD is keeping me happy. YAY. Anyone else just as happy about that, or am I the only one here?? Come on, I know I'm not. Admit you love it! ADMIT IT!!)

* * *

Jack smiled grimly at the soldiers, who all stood rigidly with their muskets aimed. "It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, if you don't mind," he said with a swagger and a wave of his flamboyant hand.

"Shut up," snapped the soldier who had previously spoken.

Jack sniggered, and began to saunter towards the group. The entire crowd drew in its breath, and they all took a collective step backward. Jack paused and laughed haughtily, placing his hands on his hips as he swayed on his heels. "My, ye 's a courageous lot. Beware of the nasty pirate." He snorted in amusement, suddenly spun to his right, and began to parade down the cobbled street. The cluster of soldiers moved as one to block his path. Jack looked completely unhindered, and spun again on his heel to face his left. He took only a few strides before the group had moved in his way again, their uniforms rustling and their weapons clanking as they went. Jack laughed. "Stubborn, aren't you?" He whipped out his sword and pistol, holding his blade in a steady battle stance with one hand, while pointing the pistol directly at one soldier's forehead. The man immediately broke out in a sweat, and tightened his clutches on his own firearm. Carlotta clapped her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. She did not want another battle. She did not want anyone else to get hurt. "It's a shame," Jack sighed unconcernedly, swinging his cutlass about wildly so that a few soldiers had to back away several paces. "I really don't want things to go this way. But I suppose, when ye 're a wanted man, these things are sort of inevitable, eh? Well then, we might as well get it over with, shall we?" He readied his pistol, and the soldier whose life was on the line stiffened, but did not move to shoot Jack, for he seemed too paralyzed by fear. Carlotta held her breath, watching him anxiously, but nothing happened. In fact, Jack's line of vision suddenly moved to somewhere over the soldiers' heads. "Good lord," he muttered in disbelief. "What _is_ that?" Carlotta looked, but there was nothing there. She glanced back at Jack. He was still staring avidly at a fixed point in midair. She looked back at the empty sky, and suddenly she understood what he was doing. She rolled her eyes. Surely there was no way that…

But to Carlotta's utter amazement, the entire crowd turned curiously, scanning the empty space behind them in bewilderment. In those few, brief moments, Jack grabbed her hand and scampered, dragging her behind him. He let go of her once he was certain that she was following, and his arms flailed madly as he pranced away with Carlotta in his stead. They galloped up the street like untamed horses, and Carlotta began to squeak uncontrollably in fear as she suddenly heard the explosion of gunfire behind her. She tried to grab onto Jack, but he was too fast, and all she could do was try and keep up with him. "You're… mad!" she gasped as he suddenly stopped, threw his arm around her waist, and flung her behind a cart full of vegetables. The old, toothless woman to whom it belonged gave a terrified shriek and ran off into the din of frightened townspeople.

He gave a bark of laughter. "Always," he rumbled. There was a gleam of mischief dancing in his dark eye. Carlotta's heartbeat was loud and painful again, afraid for her life once again because of Jack.

The sound of gunshots was deafening her, and she covered her ears, whimpering. "Jack… you're going to be the death of me, you lunatic! What's your plan, now?"

Jack sniffed. "I haven't got one," he said proudly as the synchronized marching footsteps sounded closer and closer. Suddenly, to Carlotta's great horror, he shot out from behind the cart. "Oy! Imbeciles!" he shouted, a grin present on his face. Carlotta groaned and slapped her forehead. Insulting the enemy surely was not a very good idea.

"Jack!" she protested in a strained cry as the gunshots went off again, and Jack leapt back behind the vegetable cart. "What are you doing?"

He did not answer. Instead, he placed his hands on the side of the cart, and threw all of his weight against it. It rolled forward with an ominous creak, and waves of cabbages and other such goods streamed behind it, tumbling in masses onto the cobbled street. Carlotta stared as the cart sped toward the cluster of soldiers, but Jack's dirty hand clasped around her wrist again, and she was forced to follow before she could witness the collision. They ran once more through the light, confused crowd.

Carlotta's legs were aching, and she tried several times while she was running to lift her skirt—before remembering that she was clad in male's clothing. She wanted to look behind her, but she was too afraid that it would slow her down, and she might take one of the shots that were still aimed at their retreating backs. "Where… are we… headed?" she panted, struggling desperately to keep up with Jack.

"Back to the docks!" he told her over his shoulder, but quite suddenly, he stopped. Carlotta ran into him, and as she clutched his back to keep herself from toppling over, she glanced partially over his shoulder and saw what had halted Jack's escape. Another line of soldiers was standing before them, while the cluster behind them grew dangerously close. They were surrounded, and surely doomed. Carlotta's blood ran cold. If only she had insisted on parting ways with Jack at the dock, she would not be in this mess. She could have already started a new life. Why, _why_ was she so indecisive?

Jack suddenly twirled around to face her again, and she nearly lost her balance. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her to press her back to his front, and with a gesture so fast she never saw it happen, he whipped out his pistol and held it to her temple. She was suddenly drenched in sweat, and though her lips moved, she could not speak. A tiny squeak of terror escaped them, but she could not formulate proper words. What was Jack doing? Was he going to kill her? Why would he, though? How would it benefit him?

But he placed his mouth by her ear, and shushed her hurriedly. "Keep your mouth shut," he hissed.

Somehow, she didn't exactly feel safe keeping her mouth shut, what with the barrel of Jack's pistol pressing hard into the side of her head. It was cold against her flesh, and caused her to shiver in Jack's tight, forceful grasp. She could hear his harsh breathing beside her, and the accumulation of all these sensations was all making her knees tremble. But she held her breath and did as she was told, trusting he knew what he was doing despite her better judgment.

"Don't come any closer," Jack warned the soldiers, who all looked just as bewildered as Carlotta felt. "Try an' shoot me, an' I'll kill the lad."

"Rubbish!" another of them shouted. "Don't listen to him, men. He an' Sparrow are allies."

Jack scoffed. "Who? Him?" he asked in mock amusement. He cocked the pistol, still shoved painfully against her temple. It made her whimper in terror. "Never seen 'im 'fore tonight. He's wha' I like to call an hostage, useful for purposes jus' such as this."

The crowd looked slightly nervous. Clearly none of them wanted the blood of an innocent, young townsman on their hands. Carlotta felt suddenly grateful for the extent to which she did, in fact, resemble a boy. She gulped, and felt the cold tip of the gun dig harder into her skin. Jack shook her slightly so she yelped with pain, fear rending her paralyzed. Was Jack trying to frighten her to death? If he was, he was doing an exceedingly good job of it. Carlotta tried desperately to even out her anxious breaths, but it was futile. She realized, then, why Jack was so widely renowned. With his pistol to her head, she felt so intimidated that she would have done anything he'd asked if it would get her out of this situation. She decided to close her eyes and breathe deeply, slowly, and pray the time would pass quickly so they could escape with both of their lives in tact. She could smell the rum of Jack's breath, and the scent of the sea that lingered on his skin. She could hear the clanking of the soldiers' weapons and uniforms as they shifted uncomfortably with their muskets aimed from all directions. They were surrounded. How did Jack assume they would get out of this by holding her hostage? They didn't even know her! He really must be daft, she thought.

"He's mad," said a commanding voice. "Ignore the boy! Just shoot him!"

"Ah," Jack drawled amusedly. "Admiral. So good to see ye again. 'S been so long since last we met, eh?"

Carlotta snapped open her eyes. A pale, handsome man stood before them, his station made clear by his prominent hat, badges, and white wig. His round face was set as he glared furiously at Jack. Carlotta shivered. "Indeed," the Admiral snarled. "Twelve years, hasn't it been, since you raided our port and fouled our quiet town?"

Jack snorted. "Sounds about right," he remarked, tapping his bejeweled fingers on the pistol he had at Carlotta's head. It made her nervous.

"Well, I'm afraid, Sparrow, that twelve years does not relieve a man of a grudge so strong. It was a terrible mistake on your own part to come back here. You should have known we'd be waiting for a report of your return." He smirked, and Carlotta's blood ran cold. He was going to order his men to shoot, she just knew it, and there was nothing she could do. She couldn't even run; Jack was holding her too tightly.

But it seemed that Jack was realizing it, too. The moment the Admiral's lips parted to announce the command, Carlotta felt herself sliding from his grasp. A moment later, she had hit the cold, filthy, cobblestone face first. Jack had flung her from his arms, she realized with a jolt of confusion. She groaned painfully against the ground, her head in a daze and her heart rate leaping dramatically in her panic. She sat herself up slightly and craned her neck around to witness the scene taking place above her. Jack was already running, dashing hurriedly _through_ the clump of soldiers that had appeared unexpectedly behind them. "Jack!" she cried out, but he did not react. He just ran, somehow evading every shot fired dangerously in his direction.

"Get him!" shouted the Admiral, and the uniformed men around him marched off with their muskets high and their eyes peeled. The man then turned to Carlotta, holding out a hand to help her up. "Are you well, boy? I hope the pirate did you no harm."

"No, no," she squeaked, taking his hand shakily and stumbling to her feet. He was much stronger than she, so she fell forward when he yanked her into a standing position. She nearly collapsed, but he held her upright. "No," she repeated. "I'm fine. He didn't hurt me."

The Admiral glared at her. "How old are you, son?"

Carlotta's heart sank. Her voice gave it away. "Er…" she stuttered. "Thirteen," she lied. His eyes narrowed at her suspiciously, and she stared up at him, trying to look innocent. "So… Ja—Sparrow has been here before, has he?"

"That he has," the Admiral informed her. "He upturned the entire town and appropriated nearly all of our supplies. It took us years to replenish ourselves because of him last time, and this time, I'll see to it that he's hanged, as he deserves." He was glaring at the cluster of soldiers that was scrambling after the fleeing Captain through the din of the night.

Her blood froze. "No, you can't!" Carlotta exclaimed without thinking. She realized her slip only a moment too late. She had just given herself away as Jack's ally. The Admiral's eyes widened. His brow furrowed. Why, _why_ was she so stupid? Jack had just risked himself to make her out to be an innocent townsperson—in doing so, saved her life—and here she was throwing all that away because she was just so insufferably _stupid_!

Without another word, she turned and ran. Her footfalls were heavy and clumsy, but she ran nonetheless into the crowd, willing her legs to pump as hard as they could so she could avoid the Admiral and reach Jack. As it was, he had seemingly vanished entirely in the confusing fray. She supposed that such a talent of disappearing was a requirement for a pirate as accomplished as Jack Sparrow, but it was certainly unhelpful to her as she struggled to spot him through all the commotion.

Her calves were on fire, but she could hear shouting up ahead that sounded as though Jack had suddenly decided to fight at last, and his violence was infuriating the pursuing army. She heard screams of innocent men, the clashing of swords, and the blast of guns. Her heart leapt into her throat at every shot, and she could feel tears forming behind her aching eyes. She ran onward, starting to limp soon as her feet exhausted themselves. Her lungs were burning, searing the stitch in her chest.

Another few agonizing paces wore her out, but she was so close, and would not stop! A soldier was mere feet away, his back turned to her as he held up his musket on his shoulder and prepared to fire. Thinking only of Jack's safety, Carlotta threw herself around the man's neck, hanging off of him until he dropped his gun to claw at her arms so he could breathe. His fingers closed around her forearm, and with an easy tug, he pulled her off of him. She fell to the street with a grunt of pain, squeezing her eyes shut to shield herself from the ground that rushed up to her face. When her cheek hit the stones that made up the street, she felt her skin scrape, and she yelped. The tears began to fall already, but she could not stop. She had to reach Jack, to escape with him. She could not stay here. She wanted to be with him—there was simply no denying it. She blinked away the pain and tears as best she could, and looked up. The soldier she had tried to strangle was now standing above her with the butt of his weapon raised high, as though he was about to strike her. She screamed, her throat grating and her voice cracking with the high volume of the sound, and she began to scuffle backwards on her hands, staring up at the threatening man in horror.

But to her great surprise, the point of a sword shot out from somewhere beyond Carlotta's line of vision, and collided with the musket in her attacker's hands. It fell, and the soldier went with it as the wielder of the sword punched him in the face. It was Master Gibbs. Her heart soared, and a proud grin split widely across her face. Kind hands from behind her were lifting her to her feet, and when she turned to see who they belonged to, she found herself face to face with a crewmember she had only seen, but never been properly introduced to. He had a gentle, lined face and a rough beard, and there was a parrot perched upon his shoulder, flapping and squawking raucously. "Th—thank you!" she stuttered at him. He did not answer, but merely pointed sternly in a vague direction while his parrot bobbed its brightly colored head up and down and crashed its fluttering wings against the man's face excitedly.

"All hands on deck! All hands on deck!" it screeched. She gave it a perplexed look, but the silent man shoved her away. She followed his direction, and scurried off through the battling crowd. The crew must have come to Jack's rescue, she figured, as she spotted a number of Jack's raggedy crewmen fighting skillfully with the finely dressed cavalry around her. She scanned the combat that was sweeping mercilessly about her, but she still could not see Jack.

She called his name, but received no answer. "Jack!" she cried. A familiar shout met her ears, and she spun on the spot. "Jack!" she exclaimed again, this time with relief. He was alright, but he certainly appeared extremely annoyed by his current swordfight. He won quickly and easily, and kicked the bleeding soldier to the ground with an aggravated scowl. "You're alright!" An urge to throw her arms around him made her stumble forward, but the bit of resistance she maintained led her instead to simply trip and collide headlong with his shoulder. She yelped and pulled back quickly as he glared at her.

"What on earth are you doin' 'ere, lass?" he snapped, turning to her with an expression of greatest irritation. "Ye should've stayed! I was givin' ye another chance to start a new an' better life!"

Her face contorted in pathetic desperation. "One of the crewmen told me we were going back to the ship! Besides, I don't want a new life, Jack," she whined. "I can't just start all over. It's too hard, Jack! You're all I have. Don't make me leave you, now!"

"I wasn't…makin' ye," Jack said with an effort between wide swings of his cutlass at several cavalrymen. "I… was just…tryin'… to help ye!" He fought back another attacker, then took Carlotta by the scruff of her neck and threw her down the street. She let out a grunt of pain as her thin ankle bent awkwardly, and the muscles in the area gave a nasty twinge. Her eyes brimming with tears, she tried to look back at Jack, but he was already grabbing her again, pushing her violently ahead as he lunged forward in the same direction. "Run!" he shouted. "You idiot! I'm tellin' ye to run!"

"Sh—shouldn't we stay to fight?" Carlotta squeaked. She followed Jack obediently, but couldn't help glancing over her shoulder to Mr. Gibbs and the rest of the crew that had come to fight their battle. She felt slightly guilty about leaving them, but Jack made a sound of indignation that she could hear even over their bounding footfalls on the stone ground, the ringing of swords, and the blasts of guns in the background.

"Why fight," Jack roared over his shoulder, "when you can always run?"

She had no answer to that. She continued to run, her calves searing again with the effort, but then for the third time that evening, she came to a very sudden and painful halt as she skidded into Jack. She panted for a few moments to let her lungs catch up with her, and then turned questioningly to Jack. "What on Earth, Jack—? Keep going! You said to run, so…" With one look at Jack's face, she stopped in mid sentence. Staring at him inquisitively, she saw that his eyes were narrowed in a resentful glare, and his lips were parted slightly in shock. "Jack?" she asked again, her heart still racing from their cowardly attempt to escape. She put a hand atop her heaving breast, and followed his stubborn gaze.

A woman stood a couple of yards from them, staring fixedly into Jack's face. Her dress was thick and armored, and its style was very unfamiliar to Carlotta, who was taking in her unusual appearance curiously. Her long, yellow hair was matted and wild, and her expression matched that of a satisfied beast after its successful hunt. She would have appeared quite uncivilized if it had not been for the sword at her waist, the pistol she was twirling in her hand, and her remarkably straight posture. She stood proudly, with her head held high and her shoulders back. She looked particularly impressive as she stood frozen amidst the raging panic of the terrified civilians of Nassau. Carlotta's mind was suddenly enflamed with questions. She wanted to ask Jack who this woman was, how he knew her and what she was doing here, but she bit her tongue. Jack's eyes were rather piercing, and she didn't exactly wish to get in the way of their terrible glare. She could not deny that she feared him, slightly.

The corners of the woman's mouth twitched, and her eyes squinted accusingly at Jack. "Would you be surprised to learn, Jack Sparrow," she said in a smooth voice thick with sorrow, "that I actually expected to find you here when I spotted all the chaos from afar, even before I noticed the _Black Pearl_ at the dock?"

Jack suddenly smiled, and his shocked expression became glazed over with a mocking grin. He swayed proudly where he stood. "Not in the least," he retorted with a strained chuckle. The woman did not respond, so Jack took a swaggering step forward, his hands swinging flamboyantly at his sides. Carlotta looked quickly at the woman to see her reaction to his approach, but she showed none. She smiled impassively at him as he drew nearer. "So, pray tell, my most charming murderess," he snarled, "how faired your tragic parting with our dear, noble William?"

Carlotta's heart missed a beat. She glanced back at Jack with disbelief washing over her. Surely, this was not the woman from Jack's past who had seduced him, stolen his heart, and left him for dead. There was no way. It couldn't be. Carlotta's stomach was boiling, and her blood was pounding furiously in her ears. She gritted her teeth. What was this riling up inside of her? It was not envy, was it? No; surely not. It was anger, and that was all. She cared about Jack. Why shouldn't she feel anger towards a woman who had murdered him? She was being protective of him, in a familial way _only_. But this… this could not be her. It was far too improbable. What was the likelihood that it was really her?

The woman shook her head, and bit her lip. Her eyebrows contorted in deep despair. "Don't you mention him, Jack," she pleaded sadly. "I can't bear it."

"It was by me own sacrifice that you were even given the opportunity to be plucked by the damned whelp, so don' you go orderin' me not to mention it. I gave 'im his very life, lass, an' don' you forget it."

"Yes, Jack," said the woman with a depressed nod, "you did. But it was a life without me that you gave him!"

Jack stopped mere feet from the woman, who straightened herself up more as he looked her up and down. Carlotta stalked nearer to them to hear their conversation, but not to interrupt. "Would you have preferred that I let him die?" he snapped, leaning forward as he spoke so that the woman's nose wrinkled in disgust. Carlotta was becoming more and more certain by the second that this was the woman—Elizabeth—that Jack had spoken of. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that, but it did not exactly make her leap for joy.

The woman's eyes, which were already shining with what seemed a permanent sadness, grew suddenly even glossier with tears at Jack's words. "Don't say that," she begged quietly, gazing up at Jack in horror. "Of course I wouldn't have preferred that he died. I just…" She glanced away from him, and wiped her eyes on the back of her dirty hand. "I can't help being a little bitter. It has only been little more than a week, and… I can't stand it. How am I to survive the next ten years?" Her voice wavered and cracked with emotion, and Carlotta was shocked to feel her own insides tighten with sympathy. This was surely that woman, she decided. It had to be her. There was no denying it. This was the famed Elizabeth she'd heard so much about. To her surprise, Elizabeth's eyes fell suddenly on her. She tried to stand more upright, but she had never had very good posture. She felt extremely inferior under this strong woman's gaze. Elizabeth nodded to her, and gave her a small smile. "Who's this?" she asked Jack in a friendly tone, still looking at Carlotta. Jack swiveled on his heel and looked at Carlotta as though he had forgotten she was there.

"Ah," he said, sounding almost relieved, as though he was glad to not have to answer to Elizabeth's sorrow. "This here's a new deckhand aboard the _Black Pearl_." He placed his hands on her shoulders, and brought her forward. Gesturing dramatically to Elizabeth, he told her, "Carla, say hello to _Missus_ Elizabeth Turner."

Carlotta smiled shyly. "Pleasure," she squeaked.

"Carla?" Elizabeth questioned. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I thought…" her cheeks went slightly pink. "Another woman on board?" she said slyly, turning back to Jack. "Making that sort of a habit, aren't you, Jack?"

"That's _Captain_ Jack, to you, _Missus,_" he growled.

Elizabeth smiled. "Well, if we're to be on such formal terms again, Captain Sparrow, then I suppose you ought to be addressing me as _Captain Turner_."

Jack laughed. "Still captaining Sao Feng's ol' ship, eh?"

"And why not?" she countered heatedly, her eyes narrowing. "There's nothing for me in Port Royal anymore, nor anywhere else in the world. The only thing I have left is doomed to the sea forever."

"An' you think sailin' the seas will make you that much closer to 'im, do ye?"

She gave an indistinct shrug, and pursed her quivering lips. "I don't know," she said sadly. "Perhaps. It lets me share something with him."

"What else but the title of 'Captain Turner,' love?"

"The sea, I suppose, and our roles as captains."

Jack smirked at her. "Trust me, dearie," he said. "His role as Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ is a lot different from yours."

Elizabeth shook her head dismissively at his statement, and sighed. "Why are you here, Jack? When I chose to stop at Port Nassau, I was certainly not anticipating running into _you_ here."

"Ah, but that was before you spotted the _Black Pearl_ and all the chaos that led you to assume I was here. An' even when you figured that out, ye still came ashore, didn't ye? Ye still came lookin' for me."

She glared at him. "Again, I ask: Why are you here?"

He sniffed indignantly, and folded his arms. "Well, why are _you_ here?"

Elizabeth let out a loud, exasperated exhale, and rolled her eyes. "To restock on our supplies," she told him irritably.

"Well, us too," he snapped, his eyebrows raised high on his face.

"And why didn't you go to Tortuga, as usual?"

"Would've, but Tortuga was too far out o' our way to…" He stopped, looking furious with himself.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, looked interested. "To…? Yes, Jack? Where to?"

"Now, why would I tell you that?" he hissed resentfully. "The last time I told you what I was looking for, I ended up losin' me treasure to the late Admiral Norrington, didn't I? And consequently, we ended up settin' ourselves against the entire Royal navy."

"Well, I hope this isn't another attempt at immortality, Jack. The last one, in case you don't recall it, eventually resulted in the loss of my husband." Jack stayed silent, swaying precariously on the balls of his feet. Elizabeth's eyes widened. "No, Jack. You're not." Still, he said nothing, but Carlotta noticed his eyes glint, and his mouth slowly twist into a pleased smile. "You are?" Jack pushed her aside, and Carlotta saw her grip on her pistol tighten as he moved passed her. "You are!" Elizabeth cried. "Oh, Jack, you're a damned fool!"

He paused in his exit, and spun back to face her again. "Pirate," he snarled in a low grumble, leaning horribly close to her face. Carlotta's breath caught as he remained that near to Elizabeth for a moment, but she relaxed again when Jack finally pulled away, and began to swagger off. Elizabeth stared after him, and Carlotta made to follow him, but a pair of hands suddenly grabbed her, and she screamed as her heart leapt into her throat with fear. Jack turned once again, his expression surprisingly worried, and Elizabeth, too, looked around at her. Neither of them moved to help her as the man who had grabbed her spun her to face him, and secured shackles around her wrists. Her lungs began to ache, so her screaming died down into persistent whimpering, and tears began to slide down her cheeks.

"Keep after him, men!" shouted the man who held her. It was the Admiral. She glared up at him, crying, and he looked back down at her. He scoffed, and tugged the sailor's cap from her head. Her long curls spilled down like an unkempt mane around her head, and she shut her eyes to resist reality and pretend that this was not happening. "You are under arrest for assisting a man convicted of piracy," he sneered, handing her off to a man at his left. She tumbled into the soldier's arms, feeling disgusted and ashamed. She tried to struggle out of the man's grip, but he held her back steadily against his front, his outstretched musket holding her there. Her absolute terror was making her pulse race. It sickened her. She could see other crewmembers of the _Black Pearl_ being held just as thoroughly by other soldiers out of the corner of her eye. She stared helplessly out at Jack, panting and sobbing quietly, desperate for his help, and for his safety. Elizabeth, she noticed, was gone. She must have fled the scene before anyone could notice she knew the infamous pirate. Jack, however, was not moving, though he could have easily run by now. He was staring at the Admiral with deep dislike evident on his face. "Jack Sparrow," said the Admiral bitterly, "I would not suggest running again, or we could make your punishment far more brutal than a mere hanging."

"Ah, but if I ran, I could escape before said punishment was ever administered."

"Then why aren't you running already?"

Jack was silent. He glanced momentarily at Carlotta, before returning his angry gaze to the imposing Admiral.

"I suppose you will run, though, won't you, if my men make their move?" The Admiral's eyes narrowed. "Why don't I make things simple? If you run, I shall administer whatever punishment I see fit onto your female companion over there. Does that make it slightly easier, Jack Sparrow?" Carlotta's insides were as chilled as ice, despite the warmth of the night air around them. Her heart was hammering on her ribs, and she was heaving violently against the soldier that held her. At this threat, she instinctively began to struggle, but the soldier slapped her on the side of her face, and she let out a horrible gasp of pain as she felt the sharp soreness in her jaw. She coughed, and felt blood on the inside of that cheek sliding over her teeth and gums. She shuddered at the disgusting sensation. The slight twinge in her shoulder was flaring, too, as she was pressed so tightly to the man's chest. She looked slowly back up at Jack, pleading with her eyes for him to run. She did not want him to get caught. She did not want to die, but she wanted him to die even less. She didn't think she could live with Jack's blood on her hands. _Please go_, she mouthed desperately, but deep inside of her, her saner side was urging her to beg for help. She did not want to die. She did not want his punishment. Why wasn't he saving her?

"Now," snarled the Admiral, "come quietly, and I'll let her go, and you'll be hanged at dawn. Run or fight again, and I swear, we'll capture you anyway, but I'll have the girl raped and tortured before she's hanged at your side. Would you like that, Mr. Sparrow?" Carlotta let out a tormented sob at the Admiral's words. She had tried so hard to escape the life her father had destroyed, and now that she'd found a better life—a free life; a life with Jack—it was to be stripped from her as unfamiliar soldiers raped and tortured her simply because Jack had decided to escape, and leave her to their mercy. Would he? She trusted him—stupidly—but she didn't know that she trusted him with her life. Her feelings for Jack were on a terrible, out-of-control ride around her mind and heart. Did she really trust him? How could she, when she was doubting he would rescue her? But why would he rescue her, if his life was on the line to do so? Her head throbbed painfully, and she shut her eyes to the horrible situation as though this would relieve her confused thoughts.

"No," came Jack's low, rumbling voice. "I wouldn't." The Admiral chuckled cruelly. "I'll come quietly, then," he said. Carlotta's eyes snapped open.

Mr. Gibbs emitted an odd choking sound from somewhere behind her. "Cap'n?" he inquired confusedly.

"Eh?" gasped Ragetti from Carlotta's left, and Pintel actually shouted, "Are ye out o' your bloody _mind_, Cap'n?"

Jack smirked, and his eyes locked with Carlotta's. Something in them was comforting, telling her not to worry. And for some reason, she calmed down. Her pulse actually leveled. "Aren't I always?" He swaggered forward, pride in every elegant step. Stopping feet in front of her, he grinned knowingly, as though he had a secret. The soldier holding her began to quiver. Jack chuckled, and let his eyes roam Carlotta's face. She would not dare to ask what was going on in his head, but she could tell there was a plan at work. "Arrest me," he said, his gaze not leaving her face. He was so handsome, and he did not lose that expression of haughtiest superiority even as a cavalryman approached him, and locked his graceful hands together.

"Jack," she sighed frantically. "No!"

He turned away from her, and set his cold, black eyes on the Admiral. "Now let her go," he demanded.

"Now, why on earth would I do that, Mr. Sparrow?" he asked with a hint of amusement in his tone. "She could return to spring you from jail, and I just can't have that, now, can I?" He smirked. Jack's brow furrowed with rage, but he did not struggle, nor did Carlotta. "Lock them up. They're to be hanged at dawn."

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**A/N:** Again, I'm sorry for the cliffhangers. Eep. Don't kill me. And don't kill me for bringing in Elizabeth, either!! I know a lot of people don't like her, but I DO like her, so there. Blah. Reviews keep me happy!! Thanks so much for reading, my darlings!! I appreciate it!!


	12. The Rescue

**A/N:** Aha! It didn't take me forever to update this time! I'm so proud! Anywaaaays... here it is! Hope you enjoy the chapter, my sweets!!

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Carlotta was shaking, despite the night's warmth. She was being prodded forward by a leering soldier with her arms in shackles out in front of her. Her lips were trapped between her chattering teeth so she would not cry out in protest, but it was certainly difficult. In her head, she was chanting "We're done for, we're done for, we're done for," over and over, like a mantra, as all her pessimism rose to the surface of her weak mind. She glanced to her left as she stumbled along, and caught sight of Jack, strutting proudly but with a disgruntled expression on his face. Her heart panged to see his wrists in chains, and she wanted to free him, but couldn't. She could not understand how Jack was planning on getting them out of this, but she could also tell that there were wheels turning behind those dark, determined eyes. She hoped he knew what he was doing.

And where, she wondered bewilderedly, was that Mrs. Turner? Why hadn't she risen to Jack's defense, if he had, in fact, saved her husband's life? Why had she fled? Why was nobody helping them? Fury and disappointment flared up inside of her like a violent flame. This fear that she was about to die—this horrible anguish that arose from knowing that Jack was putting her in this fatal situation, and no one was running to their rescue—was frightfully reminiscent of the feelings she had experienced that fateful night in Santiago. She let out a tiny sob, just as she was shoved through a heavy cast iron door, with ominous back hinges that teased her with the fact that she was a prisoner, and would not be able to escape. A strand of her bushy hair was falling in her face, and it got caught in the wetness on her cheeks. She sniffed mournfully, unable to brush away the tresses that were tickling her, and poking her in the eye.

The prison smelled rancid. She wrinkled her nose, and breathed through her mouth. Her tongue grew dry, and as her throat was rather swollen from her mounting terror, every inhale made her sore. The place was dully lit, and the faint sound of slowly dripping water echoed from somewhere in a cell. She stared at the looming, black bars, which would hold her until dawn, when she would at last be executed. She choked slightly as the man who held her suddenly thrust her forward through the door of an open cell. She turned to look back at him, and he grabbed her once again by the chain that bound her wrists. He unlocked the cold shackles, and pushed her roughly inside. She was followed quickly by Jack and the rest of the irritable crew, before a guard shut their cage behind them with a reverberating clank, and locked it.

While Jack appeared perfectly confident as he made himself a comfortable spot in a dank corner, the rest of his crew gaped at him. Mr. Gibbs' eyes were narrow as he glared contemplatively at his captain. Others were shaking their heads, some were quivering with fear, and some looked downright bored, and simply annoyed to be there. The man called Pintel gave an audible growl of frustration, baring his rotten, yellowed teeth. The breath he emitted carried impressively far, and Carlotta gave a small cough of disgust, though she seemed to be the only one who cared—or even noticed. "An' what've ye planned fer us now, Cap'n?" he grunted disdainfully. "Why in 'ell didn' we figh' an' run? Ye 're mad, you are!"

Jack glared up at him from the corner he'd nestled himself into. "Mad though I may be, that says nothing to my talent for escape."

"An' how is we plannin' on escapin' this time?" asked Marty, his small, watery eyes squinting accusingly at Jack, who smiled unconcernedly.

"Just trust me. We'll get out of this. There is always an escape route." And at that, he closed his eyes, covered them with his hat, leaned his head against the stone wall behind him with a smirk, and said no more.

Mr. Gibbs threw up his hands in exasperation, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned from Jack and shuffled away from him. Carlotta watched the other pirates disperse anxiously. Most of them were examining the bars as though checking for a flaw or a weakness in their build. Others were flopping resignedly onto the cold, cobbled ground, looking nervous. Carlotta was shaking, terrified and angry. She knelt beside Jack, observing the bottom half of his face that was not obstructed by his hat. His lips, his handsome jaw, his beard; her eyes flitted over these features hungrily, but worry was overshadowing her desire. She wanted to yell at him, or at least ask him meekly what his plan was, but she was afraid to do either. Was his plan simply to sleep? It did not seem like very much of an organized or useful plan to her. She shook her head, blinking at his mouth, which was still caught in a light, peaceful smile. Should she ask him what he was thinking, as she so wanted to? She needed to know, didn't she? Wasn't it unfair of him to keep this from his crew?

She took a deep breath. She had to ask him. Otherwise, she figured the blood boiling fearfully inside her might eventually scorch her insides with its steadily building intensity. Bracing herself for his inevitably unhappy response to her persistent curiosity, she reached out a hand. Her heart missed a beat as her fingertips drew dangerously close to the cheek of her superior. Why was she reaching for his face? What was she thinking? How dare she allow her lust to interfere with her actions? Ashamed, she paused. She could feel the heat radiating onto her palm from his skin, and it brought embarrassed color to her own cheeks. She swallowed painfully. His breath, as pungent as it was, felt warm and almost friendly against her. Breathing heavily, she stared at his lips again. God, they were so beautiful. Her head throbbed with the immorality of her thoughts. Was she going mad? This was so unlike her.

_But then_, a tiny part of her brain reasoned slyly, _you had never the opportunity to be so close to men before. How can you know this is unlike you, if you've never had the chance to test that theory_?

This was ridiculous, she decided, shaking her head as she bit her lip hard to control herself. With a sigh that ruffled Jack's beaded hair, she pushed herself up from her knees, finally removing her hand from the side of his head. She would calm herself down, and then return later to inquire as to Jack's plan. Yes, that was a better idea. She was nearly on her feet, and her arm had barely fallen to her side again, when a strong hand closed around her wrist. Recognizing the grip, she looked back down at Jack. He was sneering gleefully, even with his hat still over his eyes. Unable to stand again, she fell back to her knees before her captain. Her lips parted to ask what he wanted, but her throat was completely dry, and it hurt to try and speak. She ended up emitting a small squeak, and her face flushed bright red as she did so. Jack's lips twisted into an even wider grin, and his gold teeth flashed at her. "Did ye want somethin', darlin'?" he asked.

She gulped. "I—" she began, but her voice cracked. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "I just… wondered what your plan was, Captain. How do you plan on getting us out of here?"

Jack brought his head back up, and lifted his hat, sliding it onto the top of his head again. His eyes were just as dark and penetrating as ever, but they were unveiled so suddenly that their piercing quality was shocking to her, and made her heart seem to stop. Those eyes narrowed at her, glittering knowingly in the torchlight. "Don't you trust me, pet?" he asked gently, raking her through with his harrowing gaze.

She sighed. "You told me not to," she reminded him breathlessly.

He chuckled softly. "Did I? I surprise myself with my incredible ability to give good advice, sometimes. I wouldn't ha' thought I'd have such sense. As ye 've heard repeatedly, I am quite mad, now, after all."

"So, you're mad," Carlotta agreed. "What does that matter? You might be mad, but I know you're clever. You're a pirate! So how are you going to get us out of this?"

Jack smirked, and let his fingers trail up her arm so she shuddered. "Ye 've just got t' trust me, love."

"But you just said—!"

"Jus' 'cause I rightly said ye' _shouldn'_ trust me, doesn't mean ye _can't_. I know what I'm doin'. Trust that, anyways." He looked imploringly at her.

She shook her head very slightly, her eyebrows knitting together as she seriously contemplated it. But… she needed to know! "Can't you just tell me, Jack?"

He cleared his throat, and rolled his eyes to the ceiling in obvious avoidance. "I'd… rather not," he said, his voice slightly higher in pitch than usual.

"And why not?" she pleaded.

At that moment, there was a deafening _clang_ that echoed throughout the dark, uninviting prison. She let out a frightened squeak, and toppled from her knees, onto her backside. Jack, on the other hand, shot to his feet with astonishing speed and grace. All the crewmen scrambled to the front of the cell, clustering around the bars that held them from the unseen source of the noise. "Wha— what was that?" Carlotta squealed. Her first thought was someone approaching to unlock them and lead them to the gallows, but her reason caught up with her as she hurriedly checked the tiny, barred window. It was still dark, and they had only just gotten here.

Jack glanced down at her, his face splitting into a manic grin. He looked fantastically deranged. It gave her chills, but oddly made her smile. "That," he told her in delighted satisfaction, "is our escape route."

"What—?" Carlotta glanced around to the massive door that was the entrance to the prison. She could not see it, for the rest of the crew was blocking her line of vision. She could hear the heavy hinges creak as they swung gradually inward to allow someone to enter. Carlotta climbed to her feet, slowly and anxiously, straining her eyes in the low light of the cell. She was far shorter than any of the crew, and was still unable to see. She stood on her tiptoes, and gave a few small bounces on the balls of her feet, but she could barely see anything, so she resigned to watch Jack push through the crowd and clutch the bars desperately. He pressed his forehead between them, staring out at the door. Carlotta could hear their sole guard rush forward, but the sickening sound of a sword sliding from its sheathe struck the air. As the guard let out a muffled cry of agony, and his body fell with an angry crunch to the stone floor, Carlotta covered her mouth in shock. Someone had killed the guard! Was that someone here to rescue them? How had Jack known?

Mr. Gibbs cried out with joy. "It's Elizabeth!" he exclaimed. Carlotta's heart leapt. Jack tensed against the bars, his body heaving with labored breaths.

"She's come t' spring us from this 'ere jail!" called Ragetti cheerfully.

There were vague declarations of "Thank goodness!" and "We're saved!" from the rest of the crew, while Jack himself remained silent.

"You're so predictable, Jack," said the soft, gentle voice of Mrs. Turner from somewhere behind the crowd of pirates.

Mr. Gibbs scoffed. "This was your plan, was it, Cap'n?"

Jack did not answer. "Mrs. Turner," he said, giving a polite little nod of his head. "So good to see you again."

"Oh, save it Jack," the woman said irritably.

"You know, I would be very much obliged if you could find it in the goodness of your adorable little broken heart to get us out of here."

"That is why I am here, after all," she told him. "It is the least I could do after what you did for me and… my husband." Her voice wavered with despair and gratitude.

Jack sighed. "Yes, yes, that was terribly heroic of me. Now, let us out, woman!" There was a jingling of keys, and the scraping sound of metal on stone as the gate that had them trapped creaked outward. All of Jack's crewmen scuffled free in giddy excitement. Jack waited for them all to pass, and then stepped proudly from the cell to stand in front of Elizabeth. He glared down at her, his eyes cloudy and his smile lecherous. She stared up at him with wide, shiny amber eyes, blinking slowly. Her lips were slightly parted. She shook her head delicately in dislike. "Thank ye, love," he garbled rather politely to her. "An' jus' so we're clear, I don' trust ye. All I trust is your stupidity. You're exactly the sort o' girl who'd do something so stupid to repay me for me own stupidity. So now we're even. Ye 've thanked me properly, so you no longer owe me. You're free."

Elizabeth shook her head again. "No, Jack. I'll never be free. I'll be forever trapped in my own mind, until I can just see Will again." There were tears on her eyelashes, but her face was dry. Carlotta could tell this was a woman of great strength and restraint. She envied her deeply, particularly as she watched Jack gaze down at her almost sympathetically.

"Well," he said in a strained voice, "I meant you were free to forget about me, finally."

The blonde woman smiled tragically. "Yes," she agreed with a miniscule nod, "but I'm afraid I shall never be free of that burden, either." Her eyes danced in the orange glow of the prison's torches. They were sparkling with emotion. The atmosphere seemed to tense around them, and Carlotta stepped up, feeling an inexplicable boldness overtake her at the sight of their locked eyes.

"Jack," she piped up timidly, "shouldn't we be returning to the _Pearl_?"

He spun on his heels to face her, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrow as though he had, once again, forgotten her presence. Her heart sank. "Ah," he exclaimed in agreement, "yes!" He bowed to Elizabeth, and offered her a hand. "Mrs. Turner," he said in mock politeness. She glared sternly at him, and pushed past him to exit the prison. Jack followed, and Carlotta slumped along behind them, bringing up the rear of the cluster of fleeing fugitives.

They stepped over the bleeding, lifeless bodies of more men in uniforms, their weapons lying uselessly at their sides. Carlotta shivered as she passed them, and skipped a little as she walked, trying to keep up with Jack. Running slightly, she reached Jack's side, panting. He looked curiously at her. She kept her voice low so that Elizabeth could not hear her, and leaned into him to whisper. "I thought you said you didn't trust her anymore, not since she killed you."

Jack smirked, watching Elizabeth's back. "I don't," he said amusedly. "I merely counted on her desire to feel guilt-free, and after what I did for her, there's no way she wasn't feeling the urge to pay me back. She saw us get arrested, an' it's just the least that she could do for the man who saved her darling husband's life."

Carlotta shook her head. "You are so ambiguous," she snapped in annoyance. "One second, you don't want me to trust you, and the next second, you do. One second, you say you'd never trust Mrs. Turner again, and then next second, you're already trusting her again—even though you said that trusting her before was such a huge mistake. Why don't you learn?"

While the crew scampered on through the dark, glancing warily around them for fear of being caught again, Jack actually stopped. Carlotta did, too, and turned to him curiously. "Listen to me, missy," he snarled, leaning torturously close to her, driving her wild with lust again. His lips were hovering temptingly above hers. "I don't wan' to hear another peep out o' you if it ain't goin' to be constructive to our escape. Understand?"

Her breathing had already grown ragged from this painful closeness. "You're… very… defensive," she pointed out. The look on his face was so cold, an invisible frost seemed to fall over her heart as she took it in. She gulped. "I'm sorry, Captain," she squeaked submissively. "I'll not say another word." She could feel her cheeks prickling with oncoming tears already, and she did not understand why. Jack's eyes flitted quickly to her lips before he finally turned away and followed his crew down the dark street. No one seemed to want to stop their progress—nor did anyone even seem to notice them. Sniffling a bit, she followed Jack on shaken legs, her heart feeling as heavy as though it had been stuffed full of bricks.

Jack had apparently, in his own words, almost loved Elizabeth. He hadn't meant to, and he hadn't wanted to, but according to him, he almost had. Carlotta had never been in love, but she had always fantasized about it, and could not imagine how she might have reacted if the person she "almost" loved was thrown suddenly back into her life with no warning, when she'd been trying to forget him. She had to take that into account when she judged Jack's actions. Of course he was defensive! It was foolish of her to accuse him of being hypocritical in this situation, because, of course, anyone would be. How easy could it be for him—for anyone—to actually stop trusting someone he loved? Or… almost loved? She had no idea, for she had never been in love, but she certainly knew it was already impossible to shake the trust she felt treacherously for Jack. And of course, he would be defensive about this, because he was proud, and would not want to have the truth presented to him that way. He would surely deny that he was giving in all over again. And she would not try to press the matter, for she was very fond of Jack, and wanted only to be on good terms with him. She smiled as she hopped along behind him, bearing remarkable resemblance to a loyal puppy dog following its master.

By the time their boots clunked on the dock, Carlotta was only just coming out of her thoughts. She had not even realized how near they were to it. Jack's crew had already loaded the supplies they'd collected before they ran to help her and Jack in their tight spot. Because of this, there was very little to do, except to load everyone back onto the ship. The crew was extremely eager, and clambered clumsily up the gangplank. Jack was scanning the surrounding area, glaring at the whores around bitterly as though daring anyone to turn them in. Beside the _Pearl _stood another grand ship—hardly as magnificent as the _Black Pearl_, but clearly a pirate ship. A crew of pirates, foreign in appearance to Carlotta's sheltered eyes, was standing around beside it, watching Elizabeth with bored expressions. They all looked so serious, and the man in front had his arms crossed. When Elizabeth looked over at him from where she was standing with Jack, he grinned at her, exposing his rotten, yellow teeth. Elizabeth smiled in return, and then looked back at Jack.

The older woman sighed. "Jack," she pleaded, "Do you really mean to become immortal again? Can't you remember what that goal brought us last time?"

"This isn't about us. It's about me. Death has a curious way of resetting ones priorities."

"Then it is about us, isn't it? It's about you… and about what I…"

"What ye did to me? You damned wench! Why must you assume that everythin' is always 'bout you?"

"I don't—!"

"You do! It mus' come from bein' raised as such a prissy daughter o' royalty."

"Oh, will you _never_ shut up?" Elizabeth roared, looking positively mad, now. She was standing on her toes, wobbling precariously as she waved her arms about like a child throwing a tantrum. Jack appeared completely unabashed by her outburst, and merely smiled amusedly as she pointed a finger in his face menacingly. "After everything that happened… how can immortality still seem appealing, after what it's taken away from me? After it destroyed my chances at love and happiness with Will?"

"Ah, but Lizzie, darlin'," Jack reminded her, "I isn't lookin' for love, now, am I? I 's lookin' for a way to escape death, ain't I? Now, I'm sorry 'bout your poor William bein' forced into immortality, but I'm _choosin'_ it, ye meddling fool! I _want this_."

Elizabeth scoffed, and crossed her arms irritably. "Well, unfortunately for you, your only hope is to either find that cursed treasure again, or to go find Will and serve under him, and neither of those options sounds like anything you would be particularly willing to do."

Jack's eyes twinkled, like two tiny pinpricks of lamplight flaring in the surrounding darkness. "On the contrary," he told her slyly, "there is another way."

"And what is it?"

He laughed. "Why d' ye always expect me to tell ye everythin'? Even about my plans that I know you'd want to thwart? How foolish do ye think I am, woman?"

"Why would I care enough to thwart you Jack?"

Jack raised his eyebrows and smirked at her. He looked away, then, his fingers lingering on the weapons at his belt. "Well, I was rather thinkin' you'd want it for yerself, eh? Why wouldn't ye? A way to have your dearest husband for all eternity? A way to make his never ending existence more bearable? No?" He shrugged at Elizabeth's skeptical expression, and chuckled. "That's what I'd do," he said carelessly, "if I'd lost my love to infinite time."

Elizabeth licked her lips, and shifted awkwardly where she stood. "You're mad," she told him quietly, gazing pityingly upon Jack's excited, boyish expression. "I'd never want that. What happened to Will is a curse. It's not something I'd want for myself."

He shrugged again. "Suit yourself, love," he laughed. "But anyways, I wouldn' want t' live forever, knowin' _you_ were alive, as well."

Glaring at Jack, Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm flattered," she hissed in a tone thick with bitter sarcasm. "I am just shocked you found another way."

"Well," Jack said quietly, leaning closer to her. Carlotta leaned in as well, wanting to hear every word. "I'm sure ye recall the navigational charts, aye?"

Her eyes widened. "Of course; we used them to rescue you, but what—?"

"I've got 'em," he breathed, excitement prevalent in his whispered tone. "I took 'em from Barbossa."

"Barbossa? And is he…?"

"He's dead." Elizabeth clapped her hands over her gaping mouth as she gasped, but Jack waved her off. "Oh, what do you care, wench? He kidnapped you the night we first met, don' ye remember?"

"Of course," she said with a tone that made her outrage obvious, "but he also married me to Will!"

Jack snorted. "Never thought I'd hear ye defendin' such a blunderin' pirate."

"My husband is a pirate, too, Jack. And in case you have forgotten, so am I."

"I could never have forgotten that, milady. Ye just took me by surprise is all."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Yes, Jack, well… what about the navigational charts?"

"They don' lead only t' Davy Jones' Locker—thankfully." He shuddered, and Carlotta felt a sudden urge to embrace him, but she held back, watching him cautiously. How much was he going to tell her? Was he honestly going to trust her with this, after what she had done to him? Elizabeth was looking more and more intrigued with every passing moment. Carlotta decided to act.

"Um… excuse me, Captain," she said quietly, recoiling slightly under the wild gaze Jack gave her. "Er… oughtn't we to be leaving this place, before you're spotted and captured again?"

Jack blinked several times, bewildered, as though he'd forgotten where they were, and the fact that they were still in the midst of an escape. "Ah," he said, taking several wide strides over to her and the gangplank. "Aye, Carla, love. That we should be." He tipped his hat to Elizabeth, who seemed to appear oddly downtrodden where she stood alone, feet from them. Her face had fallen, and she looked extremely disappointed. "Your majesty," Jack said in parting, and turned to march arrogantly up the gangplank.

Carlotta took a look back at Elizabeth, whose eyes were grazing the monumental black sails of the _Pearl _with unusual hunger. She licked her lips, and whispered, "I'll be seeing you, Jack Sparrow," before heading back to her waiting crew. Carlotta watched them bow to her as she approached, then tugged her eyes away from the woman, and scuffled quickly up the gangplank in suit of her captain.

"Jack," she called, but he did not respond. He was already giving orders around the ship, and the crewmen were scrambling about eagerly, all desperate to get away from Port Nassau. Carlotta understood. She could hardly believe that just earlier this day, she had wanted nothing more than to leave Jack, and stay on Nassau forever, while Jack sailed on without her. Now, she could not imagine ever leaving Jack's side. She did not understand it fully, but it simply was so, and she could not deny the truth of it. She liked Jack greatly, and did not want to abandon him—nor did she think she could ever stand it if he were ever to abandon her. She smiled, watching him at the helm, glaring furiously at the charts in one hand, and his compass in the other. She knew he would not abandon her. He had given himself over to the authorities of Port Nassau to protect her. She had never been more flattered, or more disconcerted. A raging storm of emotions battled within her, but she ignored it, continuing to stare at Jack. He looked so handsome at the wheel, his brow creased with concentration, and every line illuminated by the moonlight bearing down on him, painting him with gentle grey highlights on his shadowy face. She sighed, admiring him.

The ship was creaking, rocking slightly, rolling away from the docks. Tearing her eyes away from Jack's imposing figure, she glanced back at Nassau as they glided away from it. They had survived. They were not going to be hanged. They were free, and she was not going to stay there. She was going to stay with Jack, sailing the seas with him as her captain. She felt, for the first time in a very long time, like she was really, truly free.

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**A/N:** THANK YOU FOR READING, MY DARLING LOVES!! Reviews are deeply appreciated, as always!!


	13. Sympathy and Madness

**A/N:** Sooo my internet was down all day today until about A MINUTE AGO, so with nothing to do, I decided to get started on my next chapter. Of course, that ended up resulting in the COMPLETION on the next chapter, because my internet decided to remain PERSISTENTLY unusable. Grr. Buuuut it was good, because now y'all have a new chapter! WOOHOO!! Hope you enjoy, and are proud of my wonderful quick update! Mwahaha!!

Oh, oh, oh... BEWARE!! My brutal version of Captain Jack has returned in this chapter, and Carlotta has another mental breakdown. Sorryyyyyy. And THE PLOT THICKENS!! JOY!!

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Jack had not spoken a word to Carlotta since they set off away from Port Nassau. He had given his orders and steered them on course, then set Mr. Gibbs at the helm while he shut himself up in his cabin. Carlotta stared helplessly at his shut door, knowing he was probably getting some well-deserved sleep. She blinked, noticing how heavy her eyelids felt. She probably could have done well with a bit of rest, she mused, but she glanced warily around at the surrounding crewmen, and shuddered, still feeling mistrustful of them. As a crew, she could see how they were loyal and hardworking, but as men—well, what man could ever be trusted around a sleeping woman? With a slight haunting chill, Carlotta recalled how gentlemanly Jack had been when she was bare and injured before him. He'd kept his hands to himself, and not forced himself on her, as she had feared. No; he took care of her, changing her bandaging and cleaning her wound regularly. Remembering it, she dug one hand beneath her shirt and doublet, and felt the cloth still bound tightly across her shoulder and chest. It was damp, but not very. Pressing her fingers hard against it still made it twinge, however, and she winced, wishing it would heal fully already.

Sighing, she looked back at Jack's door, which still remained closed and motionless. She shook her head, and finally tugged her gaze from it to stare instead at the rising sun. It was beautiful. Many of the crewmembers were retreating below deck to indulge in a bit of shuteye, but Carlotta did not follow them. Only Mr. Gibbs stayed up top, blinking out at the horizon from the helm, and looking doubtful but determined. One or two other men were still working, too, but they paid Carlotta no attention, too absorbed in their duties. For this, she was grateful. She did not much want company. _Unless_, the stupid little wanton voice in her head piped up, _Jack was to emerge from his cabin and provide himself as company. That, surely, you would not mind_. She shook her head furiously. "Oh, won't you be quiet," she grumbled to her own head. Her cheeks flushed scarlet—partially from the horror of her suddenly vivid fantasies, and partially from embarrassment that she was blatantly talking to herself.

Glancing around awkwardly, she hoped no one was watching her. As it was, there was no one. She was at the very front of the grand ship, while the few other occupants worked nearer to the back. Feeling relieved, she stared ashamedly down at her hands, which were so much darker than they had been back home. Her father had liked to keep her pale, and trained her to come inside whenever she could feel her skin burning or darkening. Her mother, an Englishwoman, had been extraordinarily pallid, and Carlotta, as a result, was whiter than she ought to have been. She had never thought much of it, but as she looked at her hands now and saw how they were darker and redder now, she smiled, feeling more a part of Jack's crew than she had at the start of their journey.

The sunrise began to spill majestically over the deck in brilliant rays of red, gold, and violet. The incredible white sphere peeking out over the horizon line was dotting the shimmering surface of the sea with rippling splashes of silver, and Carlotta felt her heart soar at the magnificent sight. This, Carlotta fantasized, was surely what it must be like to fall in love. But how could she know? How would she _ever_ know?

An echoing _clunk_ met Carlotta's ears, and she pulled herself quickly from her imagination. The sloshing noise of the water against the base of the ship was common, but it was suddenly magnified as though there was something swimming around near them. She glanced anxiously at the small, black shape that was the silhouette of Mrs. Turner's ship. They had not yet lost sight of each other, and Carlotta now stared at it as though wondering if it was the cause of the suspicious sounds, despite its great distance. And there it was again! It sounded as though something was clawing its way up the side of the ship.

Just as she took a deep breath and was about to glance over the railing to scan the side of the ship for the source of the commotion, a sopping hand shot out from behind it, and grappled desperately for something to hang onto. Carlotta's heart nearly leapt out of her chest in shock, but she instinctively extended her own hand to assist whoever it was. The person was much stronger than she, however, so it was very difficult. The intruder's arm came into view, then the head, shoulders, and torso of Elizabeth Turner. Carlotta gasped. "Mrs. Turner!" she exclaimed, as the older woman flung herself over the rail and fell in a wet heap to the deck at Carlotta's feet. "What are you—?"

But before she could finish her shocked question, Elizabeth scrambled into a standing position with impressive agility, and clapped a hand over Carlotta's mouth. "Please," she hissed desperately. "I don't want anyone to know that I am here!" Her eyes bore into Carlotta's, pleading with her. The deep sorrow and need they exhibited was overwhelming. Out of both sympathy and fear, Carlotta gave a slow, nervous nod. "Thank you," sighed Elizabeth, and she removed her hand.

Carlotta brought her voice down to a meek whisper. "What are you doing here, then, Mrs. Turner? Why have you snuck aboard? Surely Jack would _want_ to see you."

Elizabeth gave a small, breathy giggle, and glanced uncertainly towards Jack's cabin. She sniffed sadly, and then looked back at Carlotta with a perplexed expression on her face. "You're a woman," she pointed out bluntly.

"Yes," Carlotta agreed, her brow furrowing with confusion. "I am."

"Why are you here, then?" Elizabeth inquired. "I mean… with Jack? It did me no good to be a young woman on the _Black Pearl_. It can ruin you. So why are you here? What has Jack done this time to persuade another innocent girl to sail with him?"

Carlotta swallowed. "I— He— nothing!" she choked out. "I… was desperate, and I… needed a passage off my hometown. I had to get away, and he just… offered to help." This was a slightly puffed up lie. Jack had not so much offered help as Carlotta had basically thrown herself into his lap and begged to be rescued, and then they had struck that bargain that finally saved her. And here she was. "Jack is a fair captain," she said protectively. "He has been very good to me."

Elizabeth gave Carlotta a small, pitying smile. "I'm sure he has been," she said doubtfully.

"He has," Carlotta hissed, feeling defensive. She could feel her anger rising. "Now why are you here, Mrs. Turner? Why do you want not to be seen?"

Again, Elizabeth gave no straight answer. "Surely," she said, looking around the _Black Pearl_ disdainfully, "you would rather a life on land; a good life—with, perhaps, a job, and civilized men who could provide for you a family. Wouldn't you?"

Carlotta raised her eyebrows. "I… I don't know what you…" she spluttered. "I… would never think of leaving…"

"Of _course_ you could think of leaving Jack!" Elizabeth interrupted her heatedly, still keeping her voice as low as possible. "What woman would not prefer a normal life to this—the life of a pirate? What woman would not prefer to have a family than serve in a pirate crew under a lecherous captain?"

"Well… I… _you _wouldn't!" Carlotta retorted. "You're a _pirate_!"

"But I _would_," Elizabeth said sadly. "Piracy is just… the only thing I have left. It is because of Jack that I have found myself trapped in this situation."

"Well, it's the only thing I have left, too. My father ran me out of town." Her voice shook with emotion, but she kept control over her threatening tears.

Elizabeth sighed. "Well, what if you could have a civilized life again? What if you could have your life back, and settle down someplace nice?"

Carlotta glared at her, her bottom lip quivering with anxiety. "Wh—where are you going with this? What are you saying?"

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. "I'm saying, I could give that all back to you. I could give you a better life than this."

"But wh—_why_? Why would you do that? What do you want of me?"

"Help me," Elizabeth begged through gritted teeth, reaching forward and capturing Carlotta's hands between hers. Her sparkling eyes were wide with desperation. Her hair was soaked, and sticking to her face, but she was so beautiful, and Carlotta's feminine envy reared its pathetic head in her gut. "I need something, and if you'll just help me—please—I can get you a better life."

Carlotta's insides felt twisted and tangled, and it hurt. She did not know what to do. She wanted to be with Jack; there was simply no getting around that fact. But could she really handle the pirate life? Of course she could! Hadn't she just decided to stay here? How dare she change her mind again? Her mind was in a rage again. She shook her head, clenching her eyes shut, trying to ignore such temptation. "But… you can't! How could you possibly?"

"I was the governor's daughter in Port Royal," Elizabeth said, her face lighting up with memories. "They think I'm dead, currently, but upon my return, I would be quite as revered as though I'd never left. I could set you up with anything you need—anything you want!—if you'll just help me!"

"Help—help you… with what?" Carlotta squeaked. Her head was aching madly, and her hands were shaking in Elizabeth's grasp.

Elizabeth looked hesitant. "Will you help me?" she asked.

"I… I don't know," Carlotta replied timidly. "Help you with _what_?" Of course, she would not leave Jack. She couldn't. Not now. She was far too fond of him. His presence made her happy. Serving him satisfied her.

The older woman took a deep breath. "I need… the navigational charts."

"No!" Carlotta hissed. "I nearly _died_ protecting those for _Jack_!"

Elizabeth threw up her hands in exasperation, finally letting go of Carlotta's. "And what does Jack need the charts for, hmm? What has he told you?"

"He…" Carlotta gulped, unhappy to admit it. "He hasn't told me anything." Elizabeth's eyes twinkled knowingly as she shook her head pityingly. "But I got the gist from your interaction with him back in Port Nassau. He wants it for… for…"

"To make himself immortal, yes," Elizabeth spat. "For his own personal gain!"

Carlotta's head was still reeling with the idea that anyone could actually become immortal, but she swallowed down her amazement. "Well, maybe he would not have felt the need for such a thing if _you_ hadn't _killed_ him!"

Elizabeth's eyes watered, and her face fell. "He told you that?"

"He did."

"But I had to! I'm sure he didn't tell you that! I _had_ to do it! If I hadn't, we _all_ would have died. And I _did_ help him return from the grave, now, didn't I?"

"He should _never _have trusted you!"

Elizabeth gave a short, derisive laugh. "I was not aware that he did," she said irritably. "Look, my point is, Jack may be a good man, but he is selfish. Even after everything his desire for immortality cost me, he won't learn from it, and he's still just as determined for it."

Carlotta glared at her. "And you…?" She shook her head in disgust. "You hypocrite! You want it, too! You want it for the same reasons as—!"

"No!" Elizabeth assured her desperately. "No, not for the same reasons Jack wants it! All I want…" She sniffed miserably. "All I want is a way to stay with my husband. He is going to sail the seas for an eternity, and we shall see one another maybe… I don't know… four or five more times in the future before I die, and then what? He loves me. I know he does. Even after everything we went through, he still loved me. That kind of love does not die, but once_ I_ die…" She gave a tiny sob, and Carlotta's heart panged. "I can't bear to imagine it. It's too painful. I just want to be around for him… forever. The way it should be."

Carlotta shook her head. "But it shouldn't be this way," she said sympathetically.

"No," Elizabeth agreed. "It shouldn't. But that's just the way it is." A tragic sort of silence fell over them, in which they both took in the reality of Elizabeth's situation. Quiet tears were streaming down beautiful older woman's face, and Carlotta felt an involuntary need to comfort her. But there was nothing she could do. There was nothing that anyone could do. Only Jack's navigational charts could assuage her grief, Carlotta thought sadly, and there was no way she would help a woman she barely knew to steal from her beloved captain. After several long minutes of silent musings, Elizabeth finally sighed. "So will you help me?"

She shook her head again. "I'm sorry," she whispered in a shaky voice. "I can't."

Elizabeth's lips pressed firmly together as though she were resigning herself to accepting Carlotta's answer. She nodded stiffly. "You like him," she said mournfully, forcing a smile. "I can tell."

"I do," Carlotta admitted gladly. "Not like… oh, no!" she gasped, blushing. "No, no, I don't _fancy_ him! I just… I feel a deep fondness towards him as my captain, and, perhaps, as my friend. I never had friends before he took me away from Santiago and was ever so kind to me. He saved me. He gave me a new life."

"I could, too," Elizabeth pleaded, her eyes dancing with desperation again. "But… you really won't help me, will you?"

"I'm sorry," Carlotta informed her sadly. "I just… I can't betray Jack." She gave Elizabeth a warm but sorrowful smile, and sighed. Elizabeth nodded once again. Their eyes were locked. Carlotta could feel her heart compressing with anguish as she stared at the broken woman. She wanted to help. She really did. Bracing herself for the inevitable consequences of what she was about to say, she took a deep breath, and said, "I won't say a word." Elizabeth's lips twitched, and her eyes sparkled mischievously. It was a familiar glint, one that Carlotta had spotted before in Jack's eyes, as well. The two were really so similar, she thought, and her heart sank slightly at that realization. They fit each other quite well, and the thought was not a happy one, for some reason.

Tearing her eyes from Elizabeth's, she stared shamefully at the wooden deck beneath her boots as the other woman slinked stealthily away from her towards the captain's cabin, just barely visible in the deep shadows of the rigging in the oncoming dawn. Carlotta shut her eyes, and leaned breathlessly against the railing again. What had she just set in motion by deciding not to tell Jack that Elizabeth had come to steal from him? Wasn't that just as bad as betraying him and stealing from him herself? She didn't know. Her head was pounding angrily, and it was affecting her thought process. "Oh god," she breathed, glancing guiltily at Jack's cabin door, which was creaking open as she looked. "He is not going to be happy about this." She glanced cautiously over at Mr. Gibbs, who had not noticed anything that had taken place at the shadowy front of the ship. The other crewmen who had been working above deck had finally slipped below, and were now out of sight with the rest of the crew, settling down to rest after their long, stressful night of being in jail. Carlotta's heart was racing. Surely, Jack would fight off Elizabeth. He was bigger and stronger than she, after all. But if Elizabeth got the charts… would she, herself, be blamed?

With a frightened squeak, she scampered out of sight of Jack's cabin door. She scurried across the deck, and slipped herself quietly, unnoticeably, into the crew's sleeping quarters. She pressed herself flat against the wall beside the door, waiting, just waiting, for a sign that Elizabeth had either failed or succeeded. She didn't know which one she hoped for, and she didn't know what she would do in either case. She was so conflicted, and it was making her crazy. She was panting nervously, glancing around the cabin at the unconscious men. They were sprawled lazily about, some spread out upon the hard floor, and some curled up in swaying hammocks. The smell was incredible, but Carlotta stomached it as best she could as she held perfectly still, waiting.

Time stretched, and she continued to wait. Every long, drawn out minute made her feel even guiltier. She was just contemplating running out and stopping Elizabeth, when her eagerly awaited signal finally arrived. There was an ominous slamming sound that reverberated throughout the cabin. She swung the door wide and clambered up the ladder with fumbling hands, desperate to get to Jack. When she burst free above deck, she spun around, searching for the source of the noise. She could hear the men rousing from their sleeping state inside the cabin, stirring and mumbling blearily.

A roar sounded from the captain's cabin, and Carlotta ran like mad. Mr. Gibbs was close behind her. Jack appeared before her out of nowhere, and she skidded into him. He clutched her by the shoulders so she would not fall, but did not look at her. He was squinting around the deck furiously, his expression extremely dark. "Soddin' thief!" he rumbled, pressuring Carlotta's eardrums. "That damned, bloody _wench_! I'll get her!" She squirmed in his grasp, and he let her go. He hurried to the side of the ship, and looked down, but apparently saw nothing. "Damn it," he cried. "I can't believe her…that…" His face was distorted with rage, and he seemed at a loss for words terrible enough to describe Elizabeth.

"Jack…?" Carlotta tried hesitantly.

Mr. Gibbs had reached Jack's side. "Cap'n! What's happened? Who—?"

"Elizabeth bleedin' _Turner_!" Jack snarled, wringing his bejeweled hands. Carlotta noticed that on the back of his right hand there were four long, deep scratches. It worried her. "She's taken the charts, damn 'er!"

"_What_?" gasped his first mate. "Ye 're jokin'!" Carlotta's heart leapt. Elizabeth had gotten the charts, and Jack could not become immortal. The thought of Jack dying was certainly painful, but she could not imagine that immortality was ever a blessing. Still, her insides tightened with shame and sadness to see Jack so distraught.

She ran to Jack's side, as well, and placed her hands on his arm, trying to calm him, but it did not work. "The bilge-ridden she-devil came at me in me sleep," he hissed. "An' she got 'er hands on 'em, and I caught her arm, but she scratched me so I'd let go, an' she fled, an' I don' know why I didn' jus' _shoot_ the ruddy wench, but she caught me so off-guard, an'… _Oh_, I'll _get_ 'er." He was shaking with fury, clutching the back of his right hand where Elizabeth had apparently scratched him.

Carlotta placed her hand over Jack's, and pried his left one off his right. There was blood on his palm when it pulled away, and she gulped, cupping his warm, injured right hand in her own. "Jack," she said nervously, "you should take care of this." But he tore himself from her grip, and raised his bleeding hand as though to smack her. Her chest tightened with horror, and her heart seemed to get caught in her throat so she could not breathe properly. She flinched, and whimpered slightly, but the hit did not come. She glanced back up at him. His eyes were storming with anger and disappointment, but as he stared down at her shivering figure, his deep, heavy breathing began to slow and even out. She gulped, blinking fearfully up at him, trying to remind herself that he meant nothing by it in his current state.

He lowered his hand, and she sighed in relief. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"That's quite alright, sir," she choked meekly, rubbing her chest to calm her suddenly erratic heartbeats. "You're in shock. I understand."

Crewmembers were thundering up behind her. "What's happened, Cap'n?" asked Marty. "I 'eard shoutin'."

"We've been robbed," Jack said in a rumbling voice that froze Carlotta's insides. He spun and pointed after Elizabeth's faraway ship. "We're to follow that ship, y' hear? Get on with it, men." The crew scattered immediately, all rushing to their stations to change the ship's course. Jack glared madly at the opposing ship's silhouette against the sun, which, by this time, had risen fully, and now cast an eerie orange glow over the entire scene. His face shone, his flesh gleaming with sweat. Carlotta licked her lips as she watched him, and then finally, after a few silent moments, she spoke.

"Sir?" she asked cautiously. "Captain?" He turned to her, looking grumpy. "Let me take care of your hand." He blinked once, his brow furrowed. His cocked his head to the side curiously as though he had never seen anything like her before. She swallowed. "Please, Captain. It's the least I can do." She hoped her voice did not betray her guilt.

He scanned her face, drinking in her obsequious expression with an evident hunger in his dark, probing eyes. His mouth twitched amusedly, and he gave her an attractive smirk that made her stomach churn. "Ye 're a strange lass, Carla, m' love," he said in a low, husky voice. Her heart fluttered.

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing happened. She could barely speak when his eyes were attacking her this way. She looked away, focusing instead on his bloody hand, which he was moving towards her. His palm slid into hers, and he began to saunter back towards his cabin, dragging her along with him. She trotted loyally in his stead, and eventually heard his door close behind them. He tugged her towards the back part of the cabin, and sat her upon the bed with a rough shove that sent a violent surge of heat from her core to between her legs. She shuddered, and he chuckled, plopping down beside her. He placed his hand back in hers, and she looked down at it, struggling to avert her eyes from his face and body. Staring at his hand was no help, though. Her fingers trailed delicately over his skin, tracing the bloody scrapes left by Elizabeth, trying furiously to block out the images that were bursting before her eyes. His fingers—god, those strong, calloused fingers—were rough to the touch. She ran her thumb over his knuckles, stroked his fingernails, and pressed her fingertips against his. She embraced his palm with hers. Her breathing grew shallow, and her heartbeat was painful beneath her aching ribs. A tickling pulse was throbbing in her lower belly, making her squirm as she caressed his graceful, soiled hands. Oh, the things those deft hands must be capable of, she thought…

But she should not think such things! It contradicted everything she knew about men, about herself, about Jack. Men took advantage of things. It was their purpose in life: to take and take and take, and never care. Her chin quivered, and she let go of his hand very suddenly, looking away from him. It fell into her lap. She wished it had not. He gripped her thigh firmly, and with his other hand, turned her head back to look at him again. She could not bring herself to meet his eyes, so she kept hers tightly closed. Her chest was extremely sore from the violent beating of her swollen heart. A wet tongue trailed temptingly over her quivering lips. They parted as she sighed weakly, feeling completely breathless, and she felt his tongue on her teeth. Jack's breath was hitting her face in small, hot gusts, and it was making her extremely light headed. His muscular palm slid up her thigh, and his tongue slipped further into her mouth, torturously slowly. She could not move. She could not speak. She could hardly even breathe as his delicious, sticky tongue suddenly met hers. She wanted to react, to respond with similar passion, but her painful, frightened heartbeats were rendering her immobile and seemingly brain dead. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, but he was continuing to deny her of that pleasure, and she did not have the courage to lean forward on her own. He tasted the way she imagined rum must taste, and he was just as intoxicating. He stroked her tongue generously with his. She was suddenly going limp, and surely mad.

When he suddenly pulled his tongue from her mouth, she whimpered, and felt a hot gush between her thighs. She gave an involuntary twitch as the feeling overtook her, and she groaned with the strange pleasure of it. He chuckled softly, his hand still warm on her thigh. She tried to speak, and managed a faint "Jack… why…?"

"Because I need a distraction," he told her in a low, husky growl, "and I know you want me, pet. Admit it."

"I…" She did not know what to say. She was still paralyzed by pleasure mingled with fear, and she could not move, or open her eyes. His response had her brain working in overdrive, suddenly. He needed a distraction? What did that mean? He knew that she wanted him? That did not mean he necessarily wanted her. She wanted him—yes, she did, she realized with a jolt—but she wanted him to want her, too. He was not doing this because he wanted her, she thought with a sinking feeling; he was doing this as a way to relieve his anger. "I…" she stuttered again. "I… I saw Elizabeth." It came out before she could stop it, and her eyes snapped open as his hand left her thigh. "I saw her, and she told me what she was up to, and I told her I'd keep quiet for her." His expression hardened at her confession. "I'm sorry, Captain," she added timidly.

For several seconds, all was quiet, except for the ever-present sound of water slapping against the ship. Jack blinked at her. His glare was harrowingly cold, and Carlotta no longer felt that odd but wonderful warmth that had plagued her mere moments ago. Jack stood very suddenly, his hand closing around the scruff of Carlotta's shirt. She gasped and spluttered, fear striking her once again. The change in his demeanor was so dramatic, she did not know how to react, but her instinct just wanted him off of her. She clawed at his hands, feeling her nails sink into the already torn skin. It was disgusting. She felt his blood under her fingernails, and gagged. He was tugging her out of the cabin, choking her slightly as he went. She kept her eyes closed, frightened of the reactions of the rest of the crew. Stumbling along blindly, she continued attempting to tear his hands from her throat, until she felt herself suddenly being forced down a ladder. She climbed down it, shaking, finally opening her eyes once they were below deck. Jack grabbed her gruffly around her waist from behind, pressing her backside firmly against his front. She struggled, and let out a gut-wrenching scream that was muffled by his palm over her mouth. "Shut it," he snapped in her ear. But she would not shut it. He was carrying her, kicking and screaming, down a dark passage, his hand still suppressing her high-pitched voice. Her heart was beating bruises on the inside of her chest, deafening her, choking her, driving her wild with terror. In her mind, she was back in Santiago, and this was not Jack's hand over her mouth, or Jack's tight erection pressing against her back, but her father's, and she felt like she was going to be sick.

She was wriggling so much that Jack, grunting with frustration, pinned her against a set of bars, and she realized fearfully that he had taken her to the brig. "Stop bloody fightin' so damned much! I ain't rapin' ye, you lunatic!" But she would not believe him, not with his obvious, hard arousal digging into her thigh as he crushed her body against the bars more forcefully. "Come on, calm yourself, ye crazy woman!" Still, she struggled, and he started to groan as she moved against his front. "_Stop it, damn you_!" he suddenly roared, and in her very brief moment of shocked stillness, he flung her into an open cell, and slammed the door behind her with a resonating _clang_.

The silence following the locking of the cell was absolute, and overwhelming. She thought she might be suffocating in it. It was as though the quiet was enveloping her chest and mind, and eating away at her sanity. She shook her head, and gave a small sob, placing her face in her hands as she sank down the wall behind her onto the floor. She knew Jack was still there, standing outside of her cage and heaving with deep, calming breaths, but she would not look at him. She was too ashamed, and too frightened. Why was she so weak? Jack would never hurt her, would he? He hadn't meant to, had he? As though in answer to her swirling thoughts, Jack spoke again, his voice finally smashing through the awkward silence that had built between them. "I am not your father," he rumbled. "I would never hurt you that way." Her heart rate was finally dropping, and she looked up at last, still terrified, but needing to see his face. His eyes were wide, and they were darting all around as though multiple people were staring at him. He snapped over his shoulder, suddenly, at no one in particular, "I did not. I wasn't. What do you know, anyway?" Carlotta watched him fearfully, and as he began to mutter angrily to himself, the true madness of her captain finally sank in.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed.

"Ye should be," he said, speaking to her directly again. "That's why I've locked you up, so ye can think on what you've cost me."

She sniffled. "I'm such a coward," she breathed.

"No," Jack said in a low voice. "You've just been scarred." He blinked at her, his eyebrows knitted together contemplatively. "I wish I could make ye better," he said, avoiding her eyes. Her stomach flipped, feeling all her fondness for Jack flooding back into her in a sudden tidal wave. "I'm sorry," he told her, and at that, he left, leaving Carlotta all alone in the brig to muse over what had just occurred.

* * *

**A/N:** Aaaaaah!! Okay, so, it wasn't the most satisfying end to a chapter ever, but oh well. Hope you liked it!! And I hope you don't hate Elizabeth too much. I'm TRYING to make her a character you can sympathize with, but if it fails, I apologize. Just grit your teeth and bare it, lol. XD Anywaaaay, thanks for reading, my sweeeeeets!! Reviews are appreciated deeply!! Remember that!! I LOVE YOU ALL!! AND THANK GOD FOR INTERNET!! WOOOOOO!!


	14. Weakness

**A/N:** I'm on like some sort of writing spree, lately!! It's great!! I had a migrane while I wrote this--and I still have it, actually--so it's probably not my best writing, but eh, oh well. This chapter is mostly filler/transitional crap, with some (hopefully) subtle indications of what's to come later in the story. Don't bother looking for 'em, though, or you'll be disappointed. Well, it made me feel better to write a bit, so that's good! Oh, beware, once again, of my brutal yet overly sensitive Jack. SO SORRY!! Aaaah. Carlotta is such a little weakling. She really does rationalize about Jack, no matter how badly he treats her. Then again, I do it, too, in the real world. A lot. Oh shit. Stupid, stupid, stupid... just like Carlotta.

* * *

It was very cold below deck. She supposed it was the result of being so near to the splashing sea water, but she could not know. Her mind felt numb with shock. She could not think how long she had been down here, but it felt like it had been an eternity. An eternity—Jack was really going to all this trouble simply to gain eternal life, which could hardly be as wonderful as he seemed to think it would be. She sighed shakily into her fingers, which were clasped over her face like a shield. What could _possibly_ be the benefit of immortality, other than not dying? She could not think of any! Jack would become immortal, and he would sail the seas forever without a care, while Carlotta and the rest of his crew became decrepit with age, shriveled and sunken in appearance, and finally died. And what would Jack do? Would he really have the heart to sail on while his friends lay decomposing beneath the soil, or at the bottom of the sea? Did he even consider any of his crewmen his friends? Was he really mad enough to have no conscience about death, and to really crave what seemed like such an unpleasant existence? Living forever would eventually get—well, for lack of a better word—_boring_! Surely, he would run out of adventures to be had, and damsels to be saved. Carlotta's insides churned, and her heart felt wrung dry like an overused rag. Was being immortal really worth it just to escape death? She supposed that for someone like Jack, who loved to be the exception to any rule, and who had already experienced death once before, it would seem worth it.

Carlotta shook her head, not understanding how he could possibly be so unbelievably heartless. What if he fell in love, she wondered? His love would eventually—inevitably—die, in time, and Jack would live on, quite like Elizabeth Turner's cursed husband. He would live forever with a broken heart. How could he possibly? It was for this reason that Carlotta had given Elizabeth her silence. Elizabeth, at least, had love and heartbreak as her motive. She understood the circumstances of immortality, and was unhappy about it, but needed to choose such a terrible life for the sake of her love. That, Carlotta thought, was a better reason than Jack's fear of death.

She whimpered sadly to herself. She wanted to stay with Jack, more than she had realized. But he, apparently, did not want to be with her. He would prefer eternal life, alone and friendless, to a normal pirate's life with her as a loyal hand. Even if he did not care about her—even if he never wanted her, and never treated her as a friend—she would remain loyal. It was all she knew how to do, and all she wanted, now. She just wanted to serve Jack, and that was all. She would stay with him even if he did become immortal, she decided with a sigh, and she would help him with anything he needed.

For some reason, her stomach tightened unhappily, and her heart sank slightly. She sniffed, trying to ignore it as she realized it was self-disgust plaguing her. Her subservient nature was not something she liked, but it was something that could not be changed. _Why are you such a pitiful little slave to any man what calls himself your superior?_ the stupid voice in her head asked accusingly. _Why don't you stick up for yourself, you blasted idiot? Why are you so pathetic? Why do you rationalize everything Jack does, when any other woman would gladly slap him across his arrogant face, like you did only once, for the way he's been treating you?_

Because he has his reasons for the things he does, she told herself firmly. She was not rationalizing—she was simply trying to understand his reasons so she could accept his actions more easily. She was passive and accepting. That was simply her nature. She did not mind the way she lived, for serving others kept her satisfied. She loved to make people happy, and she loved the approval of her superiors—in this case, Jack. _Ah, but what did your service do for you back home?_ that little voice piped up again. _Look at where your loyal submission got you. _It had gotten her here, she reasoned. True, she had been betrayed by a man she'd thought would keep her safe in the past, but she had escaped to Jack, and Jack was not like that. _You thought your father was not like that, either, but see what he did…_

"Shut up!" she hissed at no one. "Just _shut up_! He isn't like that! He would never hurt me that way! He said he wouldn't!" She gave a tiny sob, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt me again," she whispered. "I'm not. But I still trust Jack. I shouldn't, but I do, and so be it. I don't care. He may be a man, but he's not any ordinary man, and he's definitely not my father. He won't hurt me."

"O' course I wouldn'," came a familiar, low growl from the shadows. Carlotta looked up with a jolt of surprise, searching for Jack's face. When it suddenly loomed into view as he stepped forward from the darkness, she stood, watching him warily as he took a deep swig from a large bottle of rum.

She swallowed. Her head suddenly began to pound. "How did you know—?"

"Who else would ye be talkin' about?" he asked, ambling closer to her in a slow but arrogant gait, his rum swinging in his flamboyant hand. This was a good assumption, she had to hand it to him. She had no one else but him. Who else _would_ she ever speak of—or think of, for that matter? She nodded guiltily, and gave him a strained smile, confirming she was talking about him. "Well, o' course I wouldn't hurt ye," he said again. "I don't hurt people on purpose. Not without reason, anyway." He placed his bottle on the ground beside the cell he'd locked her in as he stopped in front of it. His hands slipped around the bars, and he leaned against them, gazing in at her. "The fact that ye were jus' tellin' yourself how I would ne'er hurt ye indicates you needed a little convincing," he said, his eyes boring into hers. His fingers were trailing up and down the bars he was clutching, caressing them gently. As his rings slid along them, the sound of metal on metal grated Carlotta's nerves, and furthered her mounting headache. She could not help staring at his hands as they embraced those bars as though a lover. He noticed this, and stopped abruptly. She looked back up at him. His black, kohl-lined eyes were sparkling even in this dark, and they were smiling evidently, though the rest of his face had become impassive. "So how can I convince you," he questioned in a dangerously low tone, "that I would never hurt you, my pet?"

She did not answer. Instead, she blinked innocently at him as though she did not hear his question. Jack sighed, and his head drooped, staring at his faded old boots. Carlotta cleared her throat, knowing he was unwillingly accepting that she would not answer him. "How long have I been down here?" she asked, turning the subject away from her internal battle about trusting Jack.

He shrugged indistinctly. "I don' know," he said, "maybe a couple o' hours, at the very most." He looked suddenly extremely uncomfortable, and drew himself closer to the bars as though to squeeze himself between them. "It's cold," he mumbled, glancing around the brig irritably. "Who turned off the sun, eh?"

Carlotta raised her eyebrows. "No one," she said. "It's just darker and chillier down here than it is above deck."

"Aren't you freezing?"

She gave a noncommittal jerk of the head. "I suppose," she said.

"Well, that's good enough for me. S' long as I'm not goin' mad."

"You _are_ mad, sir," she reminded him, taking several cautious steps closer to him.

Jack grinned. "Ah, well, I'm glad that's been cleared up," he said with a laugh. "Now, listen t' me, darlin'. We 's catchin' up on our dear, thievin' Missus. I just wanted t' let ye know that I ain't plannin' on lettin' ye out 'till we've caught 'er. There's too much of a chance you'll go aidin' the bloody wench again." He smirked, but his expression held bitterness behind it.

"And… if you do not catch her?" she questioned tentatively.

He glared. "Of course we'll catch 'er," he spat. "How dare ye say we might not? O' _course_ we will, ye bloomin' imbicile."

Carlotta swallowed, watching him nervously. "Well then, that does seem sensible, sir," she uttered dully, hating herself again for her frustrating compliance. If ever she was to become a stronger person, she would eventually have to stand up for herself, wouldn't she? But as she blinked up at Jack, she could not bring herself to argue with him anymore. His gaze on her was too beautiful, too chilling, too paralyzing. She smiled slightly, and felt her neck develop a sudden, annoying stiffness—probably from sitting on the ground for so long with her head down in her hands, she figured. She rubbed the sore muscles gingerly, and cleared her throat. "Well… thank you for informing me, Captain," she said in a clear, strong voice. "I shall look forward to my freedom."

He narrowed his eyes at her. She noticed he was sweating rather violently. "You've nothin' to say t' me, girl?"

She gave him a bewildered look. "I already told you how greatly sorry I was, did I not?" she said.

His lips tightened awkwardly, and only his eyes moved as he suddenly glanced from left to right, looking rather paranoid. "Of course you did," he said in a high-pitched voice that betrayed his denial of the fact that he forgot. "I just wanted ye to say it again."

"Why?"

"Because!" he replied with a sudden shout that made her recoil slightly from him. Her head gave an angry twinge of dislike towards his raised voice. "Just… because," he repeated more gently. "Just do it."

She gulped, and dropped her hand from her neck as though nervous that he would be angry about it. Why was he of such short temper? "I'm sorry, sir," she stated in a bleak monotone.

He grinned. "Good girl," he said, tugging at the neck of his shirt as he reached down to retrieve his rum again. He took another long and desperate drink from the bottle, leaning his head far back as he imbibed as much of its contents as he could handle. Carlotta fought the urge to be ill watching him. A droplet of sweat ran down Jack's cheek, and she shivered, wondering how on earth he could be sweating in the chilly atmosphere of the brig. But she ignored it, and smiled up at him as he finally removed the bottle from his lips with a satisfied sigh.

He looked her up and down, and leaned against the cell door once again, pressing his forehead between two bars and curling his free right hand around one. Carlotta instinctively patted his fingers, trying to console his feelings of sudden loss that she had caused by not warning him of Elizabeth's intrusion. She glared guiltily at the healing scratches on his hand. Her touch lingered, and he shifted his hand beneath hers so she thought he was meaning to pull away. Instead, he took her in his palm, and stretched her arm out through the bars, pressing his lips to the backs of her fingers. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she gasped at the cool contact of his mouth to her knuckles. "Jack," she breathed, without even noticing. He sniggered, and her heart sank as he let her hand drop again. She opened her eyes again to look at him, but he was already retreating. She pressed herself hard to the bars, her arms wrapping around them as she stared longingly after Jack, feeling helpless as usual whenever he teased her this way. Why, _why_ was he so cruel? Why was he toying with her? Did he do this with every woman? She supposed he did. The thought did not cheer her up, and she let out an anguished, frustrated moan as her drunken captain slipped out of sight above deck. She certainly hoped they reached Elizabeth's ship soon, for her own sake, as her stomach was growling and her head was continuing to pound. She was not sure, however, that she wanted Jack to succeed in retrieving those charts again. She had already decided immortality could not be good, but she had also decided, she remembered with slightly sorrowful resign, that she would stick by Jack, no matter what he wanted. Scowling, she flung herself stiffly back onto the ground, rubbing her sore neck again, and hoping this battle would be over quickly.

* * *

Before long, the swaying of the ship was starting to get to her. It was rocking more violently than she could recall, and her stomach was starting to turn. Swallowing, she clung heatedly to the bars of her cell with her eyes closed, trying not to get sea sick. The slapping of the waves on the ship was echoing in the brig, and her headache was getting worse. When a clap of thunder suddenly struck the air, shaking her bones and vibrating in her skull, she bit her lip hard, and let out a squeak of discomfort. She had never been at sea during a storm, and could not imagine that it was the safest place to be when there was thunder and lightning in the air. Another harrowing _boom_ met her ears, and she whimpered again. The sky lit up, and she could see the white flash even through her shut eyelids as the brig glowed briefly. When it faded again, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and she opened her eyes to see Jack's boots appear, climbing down the ladder. He dropped fully into view, and she bombarded him immediately. "What's happening?" she squealed. "Did you get it?"

He looked extremely disgruntled as he reached her. "Complications have arisen."

"Complications?" Her heart missed a beat. "What complications?"

Jack sighed miserably, and wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve. "Elizabeth an' 'er crew have gone ashore."

Her jaw dropped. "You mean, they already found—?"

"Oh, no, no, no," he assured her quickly, "certainly not; the Fountain of Youth is located somewhere in the south most part of Florida. They've landed on a deserted island—thankfully not on one I've e'er been to before—an' it's probably due to Elizabeth's bloody_ cowardice_. I'm guessin' she's too afraid an' too cautious to even _attempt_ to sail through a storm." He glared up at the ceiling, which creaked slightly with the weight of his crew scrambling about upon it.

"Can you blame her?" Carlotta asked, glancing upward as well. "I'll admit I am worried. I have never been at sea during a storm."

"Well, ye best gather your courage about ye, darlin'. There's a nasty storm brewin', an' I can tell it's goin' to be bad." He removed a heavy set of keys from a pocket of his doublet, which was unbuttoned despite the heightening cold. Fumbling with them as he tried to pick out the correct key, he said, without looking at her, "We're to land, as well, love. An' I ain't leavin' ye in 'ere to starve t' death. You're too bloody delicate."

When he found the proper key, he shoved it into the lock. Carlotta stepped back from the door, watching him with profound amazement. "You… you're letting me go early? Even after what I did to you? Even after what I've cost you, Captain?"

"Don' make me change me mind," he snapped, still not looking at her. "I fear you're too easily broken. I pity your pathetic, naïve innocence, an' I don't want ye locked up for so long. I'd ne'er forgive meself if such a helpless an' pitiful little thing like you starved from me own neglect."

Her heart raced. "You… felt bad for me, Captain?" she asked as the door creaked open. Stepping out of the cell with caution, she gazed up at him fondly. "Thank you," she sighed earnestly. "You really are a good man."

But then, with a horrible, echoing _slap_, Jack's palm collided hard with the side of her face. The stinging sensation on her cheek followed quickly, and it brought tears to her eyes. The silence rang painfully around them. She lifted a shaking hand to her face, and looked up at him, horror plastered onto her expression of disbelief. Her lips were parted in shock, and her eyes were wide, glistening with the threatening onslaught of tears.

Jack's eyes were as dark as ever, and she felt a terrible chill slither up her spine under his intimidating stare. At the same time, though, his brow was creased as though he were in pain. "That'll teach ye not to go betrayin' me again," he said. He glanced away from her, his mouth twisting awkwardly. "I don' want to hurt ye, love," he mumbled, looking sadly down at the hand that had hit her. She gulped. "Ye 're so innocent. Jus'… do _not_ deceive me again, y' hear?"

She shook her aching head rapidly, rubbing her cheek. "Of course not," she agreed in complete honesty. "I wouldn't. I _won't_, I mean. I'm so sorry, Captain."

His eyes traveled down her body, then back to her face. He looked slightly disgusted. "An' grow a backbone," he commanded. Her heart tightened, feeling her weak spots crumbling shamefully. With a blink, tears finally began to spill over her reddening eyelids, rolling unhappily down her cheeks, stinging the one that had just suffered Jack's unexpected punishment.

"Yes, sir," she whispered in tearful submission. "I shall try."

"Ye had better," he snarled, taking her by the arm and leading her to the ladder. "Elseways, ye 'll be no help to me. You're so pitiful, now, I wouldn' be surprised to have ye die o' mere fright. Ye want to survive as a pirate, you've got to grow stronger."

Puffing out her chest in an effort to appear more intimidating, she snapped, "This is coming from the man who so _bravely_ said, 'why fight, when you can always run?'"

He smirked. "You listen well, missy," he said, pushing her up the ladder as the ship gave another shocking lurch. She climbed it resentfully, and he followed, not taking the hand she offered to help him up behind her. He straightened up, and chuckled. "Ye really are a strange lass, darlin'," he said amusedly.

"So you've said," she told him, "but you're just as strange, Jack. I would never have thought you to set me free earlier than you'd planned."

He grunted miserably, the small grin sliding from his face. "Well, that makes two of us, then," he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. Her heart gave an unusual twang of confusion at his words, and she sucked in her lips in an attempt to stem the ongoing tears. She wanted to question this statement, but Jack suddenly pulled her roughly to the side of the harshly rocking ship, and pointed into the distance. There was an island easily visible, with a great, sandy beach stretching around its perimeter. The trees in its center were thick and ominous. "There," he said. "That's where Elizabeth's docked. Blimey, wha' a fool she is. Sailin' through a storm ain't too hard." He scoffed. "Amateur," he muttered under his breath.

She smiled, wiping away the tears that were now drying on her face in the cool wind. It was clear that a storm really was coming, and coming fast. The waves were crashing violently against the ship, which was swaying madly, so she had to cling to the side rail in order to stay on her feet. "We are landing there, too, are we?" she asked him loudly over another rumble of thunder that provoked her skull to throb furiously again. "And we will stay on the beach, won't we?"

Jack smirked. "Aye," he told her. "I've had far too much experience with the dangers of deserted islands." He shuddered. "Besides, we 's only landin' so as to steal back the damned charts, then we're getting' right back onto the Pearl, an' huntin' down that Fountain. There will be _no_ interaction between you an' Elizabeth." He glared at her. "Understood?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir," she said again.

He snorted with laughter. "Still not stickin' up t' me?" He sighed. "Ah, well. Y' can't have everythin' in life, I suppose." She raised her eyebrows skeptically as he turned from her and sauntered off to the helm, leaving her dazed and bemused. He really was such an odd man, Captain Jack Sparrow was. She shook her head at his handsome back as he retreated. Her stiff neck gave a slight twinge, and she began to rub it again, staring over the edge of the uncontrollably rocking ship. Guilt washed over her as she gazed at the other ship, tied down on the shore of the slowly nearing island. Elizabeth had been through so much. This possibility at immortality was all she needed to be with the man she loved. How could Jack be so selfish to curse the woman's husband with this, and then steal it away from her, too? It pained Carlotta to think on it. But she had assured Jack that she would not betray him again, and she meant it. She liked him. She felt strongly for the roguish yet charming captain, and she could not resist him. She could not deny how devoted she felt to the man, and she could not reverse it, either, no matter how much she told herself she would. The truth was that she would never be good enough for Jack. He had once "almost" loved Elizabeth—and still, even now, he was fond of her, the way Carlotta was so fond of _him_. He loved her strong will and her evident dislike of him. It intrigued him, and held him at her mercy. But she—Carlotta—was at _Jack_'s mercy. She was nothing like Elizabeth, and nothing like Jack. She was inexperienced, she was weak, she was stupid, and she was damaged.

She clung more tightly to the railing as the ship gave another dreadful tilt, and freezing cold seawater splashed over the decks, soaking her from the knees down. She shivered, and began to cry pathetically again as another clap of thunder sounded, bringing with it a sudden downpour of icy rain.

The storm had finally arrived, and they were steadily drawing closer to the island, where Jack's hope and dream sat waiting in the thieving hands of the woman he once "almost" loved.

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**A/N:** Oh, oh, oh, and I haven't yet edited this chapter, so if you spot any of my usual dumb mistakes, please let me knooooow, and I'll love you forever (though I already do, whoever you are!)! Thanks so much for reading, and for actually sticking by me for so long!!

ALSO, for absolutely no reason at all except the fact that you're all major PotC fans, I thought you might be interested in THISSSSSSS little ditty I drew back in March: velociraptor842.deviantart .com /art/ Captain-Jack-Sparrow-80713705 There it is, but without the spaces, because fanfic. apparently doesn't let me put a link there. You don't need to look at it, but I thought you lot might appreciate it more than most others who've seen it so far. True, it has its major faults, but eh, WHO BLOODY CARES?! It's art!!


	15. A Bold Fancy

**A/N:** Heeeey!! Another chapter!! Whoopie!! Aaaah. Whenever I'm not at school, I'm home painting this week. It's fun and all, but the smell of turpenoid starts to get to me after a while, so I have to move away to the computer for a little while. So I wrote this a little at a time over the past several days, whenever I wanted a break from my painting (which actually is NOT so bad... lol... FOR NOW...), and it got done more quickly than I thought!! I'm reeeeally excited about this story, and how far it's getting!! 15 chapters!! Weee!! This is the second longest I've ever gotten a story to be! I'm so exciteeeeed!! Just recently, actually, my ending for this story changed slightly, and it's causing me problems (to say the least, the fact that none of you will like it very much), but I'm reeally looking forward to writing it, so... YAY!!

Happy reading!! Enjoy the chapter, my sweet muffins!!

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The storm was raging. Perhaps rather intelligently, Carlotta thought, Jack had ordered his crew to anchor the _Black Pearl_ far out of sight from Elizabeth's ship. Though the other captain surely already knew they were following her, and though she had undoubtedly already spotted them approaching the little island as well, Carlotta felt slightly safer knowing that the two ships had a good distance between them.

"Should I remain on the ship, Captain, and wait for you?" she asked Jack as she gazed over the rail of the _Pearl_, staring out at their sopping surroundings.

He snorted. "Whatever suits ye," he snapped. "Jus' don' go runnin' off to 'elp the royal Missus, y 'hear?" Jack was in a very bad mood by the time the ship finally rolled ashore, rocking dangerously. He barked the orders to his crew to tether it in the earth, but did not stay to oversee the job done. Carlotta did not stay to help the crewmen, for she had no idea what she could do. She still barely knew a thing about ships. Instead, she scurried after Jack as he stomped off along the beach and around a sandy bend, so that the _Black Pearl _vanished from view.

"Jack!" she cried over the deafening downpour, skipping behind him to catch up with difficulty, as her boots sunk deeply into the wet sand with every heavy step. He did not answer her, or turn around. "Jack!" she called more loudly, feeling her stiff neck give a twinge of discomfort. He glanced over his shoulder as he lumbered through the thick sheets of water crashing down on him, and glared at her.

"Decided to tag along, missy?" he shouted to her with a hint of amusement in his voice as he continued to march ahead. "Jus' don't get in th' way, or I'll 'ave your head."

She grunted as she ran, panting with the effort of moving through the sticky earth, and straining her eyes to see through the furious storm. How it had been so hot mere hours ago? She was shivering. The rain had soaked through her thick waistcoat, and her breeches now clung to her skin, weighing down her legs as she tried to quicken her pace. For a moment, she was grateful she was not wearing her usual dress, for surely that would have only hindered her attempts to follow her captain through the rain. She could see Jack forcing his way through the haze, and she thought he looked rather comparable to a drowned rat.

And then, from around the seemingly endless bend, another figure emerged out of the rain's mist, solidifying as it drew nearer from apparent nothingness. The form was feminine in its elegant gait. The graceful figure of Elizabeth Turner was marching just as determinedly as Jack was, and her long, golden hair was plastered to her shoulders, contrasting dramatically with the black armor of her stylized dress. Jack's stance seemed to stiffen as he strode towards Elizabeth, and when his hand groped at his side for his cutlass, Carlotta's heart leapt. She did not dare interfere, but at the same time, she could not tear her eyes away from the drenched couple approaching each other. She would not help; she had told Jack she would share no more interaction with Elizabeth, and she would not go back on her pitifully loyal word.

They stopped, and Carlotta hung in the background, unnoticed by Elizabeth. Jack bowed low, sweeping off his tricorne hat dramatically. "Your _majesty_," Carlotta heard him call out to Elizabeth. "Come to face me all on your own? Would ha' rather thought ye 'd be smarter 'n that, an' keep your whole crew behind ye."

"I'm not a coward, Jack," she said loudly, allowing her thin fingers to trail to her hip, teasing the sword hanging there. "I'll willingly fight you for this. This is something I really _need_, and I'm willing to fight for it."

"Oh, you're _not_ a coward, are you?" Jack laughed, swaying dangerously on the spot. "Then by what other term d' ye describe the act of purposefully runnin' ashore to avoid a storm?"

"Precaution," Elizabeth shouted defensively, color rising evidently in her cheeks despite the ice cold droplets running down her face that were causing her to shiver visibly. As it was, all three of them were shivering.

Jack's sword slid swiftly from its sheathe. It was a particularly impressive gesture when he stood heaving in the pouring rain, water dripping down his firm body, and the sound of the weapon's reveal muffled slightly by the roaring wind. "Is that so?" Jack bellowed in amusement. "Well, my dear, I'll certainly pray you took precautions 'gainst _me_, as well, for I'm sure ye _knew_ I'd be trackin' ye down after what ye tried to pull."

"You mean, after what I _did_ pull, Jack," Elizabeth yelled gleefully. "_I _have the charts, now, you blasted pirate, and _you_ don't deserve the prize they'll grant."

"Ha!" Jack rumbled. "Ye don't even know what you're lookin' for!"

"It wouldn't take very much to find out. All I need to do is examine the map, and with enough scrutiny, I'm sure I can easily figure out which of its many destinations will bless me with the life I need to be with Will."

Jack shook his head in disgust. "Who would ha' thought the darling Mrs. Turner would e'er be such a hypocrite as she's provin' to be now, eh?" He put on a high-pitched tone of voice that was obviously supposed to be an imitation of Elizabeth's desperate, girlish squeal. "_Oh, what happened to my dear, dear eunuch is a _curse_, and I'd _never_ want to be immortal and live forever with him! How could you _think_ such a thing, Jack_?" He snorted, inching towards her, his cutlass outstretched warningly in his strong arm. At Jack's rather ridiculous impression of her, Elizabeth emitted a primitive scream of rage, and flung herself forward as she unsheathed her own sword.

The battle commenced immediately. Jack and Elizabeth were both incredibly skilled, Carlotta could tell. She slumped against a tree near the border of the island's thicket, keeping herself concealed, and watched them hack away at one another. Though she did not know how to fight, she thought Jack seemed to be giving it his all, and not holding back on account of her sex—but then, perhaps Carlotta was merely wishing it so, hoping Jack no longer harbored feelings towards the married woman. But how could he not, she wondered sadly as she watched the two fighting. Elizabeth's weapon crashed angrily against Jack's with tremendous skill. She dodged his blows and he dodged hers, so their equally matched combat seemed a futile one. Water flew off of their dancing figures in great sheets with every twirl and lunge they performed. Carlotta was hypnotized, watching them. Her eyes were stinging with the effort to stay open as the raindrops pounded against her face, and her mouth had fallen open involuntarily, so her tongue underwent the beating, too. Her slack jaw was beginning to grow sore, like her neck, but she blinked away the annoying ache and continued to watch the swordfight by the concealing trees.

Jack and Elizabeth had at each other as though this had been a long-standing arrangement, a planned duel they had been expecting for years. Elizabeth was surprisingly bold with her sword. She was a surprisingly bold woman in general, Carlotta thought. Bold was how Jack liked his women, but how could Carlotta ever be like that? Her head throbbed fearfully with the fact that she wanted to change—she _wanted_ to—just to catch the eye of her insatiable captain. What nonsense, she fumed, for her to think such things. This was a silly fancy of hers that she would surely be rid of as time passed. This was desperation, not real desire. She gave her head a stiff little shake, and pulled herself out of her furious thoughts to return her eyes to the unrestrained battle.

Elizabeth ducked to avoid a great swing at her head, and kicked out at Jack's ankles while she was bent. He barely stumbled; his feet were skillfully planted on the ground. She pirouetted awkwardly to move behind him, and raised her cutlass, but Jack turned, and the blades collided in the air as Jack defended himself. He shoved her away from him with a great heave, and she tumbled backwards, landing hard on the damp, compacted sand. The blur that was Elizabeth's face looked disgusted and irritated, but hardly defeated. She was pushing herself up on her hands, and crawling back to her feet. Jack, to Carlotta's surprise, did nothing to stop her, or to beat her back again as she gathered her bearings again. In fact, he seemed completely frozen. Elizabeth's lips moved, and her head tilted curiously to the side as though inquiring. Her sword was paused steadily above her head, prepared to strike. Jack was still.

With a leap of paranoia, Carlotta thought for a moment that Jack had somehow gotten injured and she had missed it. She began to scramble forward before Jack moved slightly, and she realized he was scratching his head, looking rather bewildered. Carlotta's nerves abated, but she, too, felt suddenly confused. What was Jack doing?

But there was hardly a moment to think much on it, for Elizabeth took full advantage of Jack's random unresponsive pause, and lunged. Carlotta's heart missed a beat, and out of instinct to protect him, she rushed forward as fast as her numbing legs would go through the downpour. Jack's cutlass was knocked from his hand, and with a kick to his stomach, he fell to his knees. Elizabeth held him there with her sword at his throat, but did not act. Her awkward poise suggested that she had not expected to get this far, and was unsure what to do at this stage. Surprise was glistening on her expression in the rain, and Carlotta saw, as she drew closer, that the woman was biting her lip, looking confused. Jack looked quite as confused as she did. His eyes were slightly crossed, and he was swaying drunkenly where he knelt, inclining dangerously close to the blade threatening to slice his jugular. Annoyance suddenly swelled inside Carlotta, who flung herself at his sword. It was coated in wet sand, but she raised it in shaking, uncertain hands as though to attack Elizabeth. She let it come down in a rush, and shut her eyes. With no other choice, Elizabeth removed her own sword from Jack's neck, and blocked Carlotta's clumsy attempt. With a squeal, she opened her eyes again, leapt backwards and cried, "Jack!"

He looked up. Avoiding Elizabeth, Carlotta dropped to her hands and knees, and crawled in front of Jack. He stared at her, seeming disorientated, but Carlotta put her hands on his shoulders and shook him as hard as she could. Granted, that was not very hard at all, but the jerking motion plus her shrill voice calling "Jack!" again through the thunder seemed to hound him to his senses. He blinked rapidly at her, raindrops dripping down his eyelids and cheeks. Before she even realized he'd come to again, Jack pushed her quickly away, swiping his cutlass out of her weak grip as she fell onto the sand.

The fighting began again somewhere over Carlotta's sopping head. Her long hair was exceedingly heavy, weighed down by the water that plastered it to her face and back. Her shoulder gave a painful, stinging twinge, and she could feel the wound there throbbing as the rain soaked her bandage, irritating the already tender skin beneath it. She winced as she sat up. Peeling her dark hair off of her sopping face, she looked up at Jack and Elizabeth. Even as she watched, Elizabeth seemed to recoil. The woman's heart did not seem in it as much. Her eyes were very red—but whether or not there were tears on her face was indiscernible because of the rain. She was slowly faltering, her blows less heavy with every swing. Jack realized this, too, and caught her hand easily as it drove her cutlass towards him again. His fingers prized the weapon from her grasp, and it fell inaudibly to the sand. Elizabeth was spitting insults at Jack as he continued to grip her hand, holding back her obvious desire to punch him. "_Curse_ you, Jack Sparrow!" she shrieked. "You bloody, rotten, good-for-nothing, wretched _pirate_—I _hate_ you!" Her other hand befell Jack's chest in a tight fist. He barely lurched, but his brow creased deeply in annoyance. "I _hate _you! I _hate _you! Do you have no remorse for anything, Jack? Do you have no regrets? Do you not think of me and _ache_ over the doomed life you gave me?"

Jack tried to pull away. Carlotta could see his expression contorting with shock, horror, and disgust, as though what he was hearing was not at all anything he liked. "Bleedin' wench," he snarled loudly over the rain. "I regret nothin'. I've done no wrong 'ere, Missus. I saved your husband's belligerent little _life_, woman! Can ye be grateful for _nothin_', eh?"

"I blame _you_!" Elizabeth screeched, losing her head completely. Carlotta felt her blood freeze at Elizabeth's sudden breakdown. It was extremely disconcerting to see someone so apparently strong fall so suddenly. "I blame _you_ for all this! I blame you for not stabbing Jones' heart just a minute earlier! I blame you for hunting it down in the first place! I blame you for tricking Will aboard the _Dutchman_ and enabling him to meet his father, and to make that bloody _promise_ to him!"

"I saved the whelp's _life_!" Jack yelled madly, giving Elizabeth's sobbing form a good jerk in his tight grip. "I gave him _eternal_ life! I gave him what _I_ wanted! I was _selfless_, for once! I had a chance to be a good man and to do the right thing, for once, and I _took_ that chance, just like you knew I would some day. And I'll crawl willingly back to the Locker 'fore I let ye diminish what I've done—for _you_! I did it _for you_, Lizzie! To keep _you_ happy! To be a good man like _you_ wanted!" Jack's expression was wrenched into a horrible sort of uncertain glare that really looked quite painful.

"_Shut up_!" the crumbling woman bellowed, still slamming her fist on Jack's unmoving chest. "It's _your_ fault! It's _all_ _your fault_!"

Jack shook her again, but she did not cease her punches. "Stop placin' the blame on me," he grumbled. "This isn't about me at all! This is about your need for justice, your need to have a scapegoat upon whom you can exact your rage."

"Fine!" Elizabeth cried. "Fine! Whatever it's about, I don't care! I just need to be with Will again! I _love_ him!" Her voice cracked, and without warning, she sunk limply into Jack's arms. "I love him," she sobbed. "I love him so much, Jack. God… how can I be expected to do this? How can you expect me to live this way, knowing what limited time I have with him? Immortality is the only option I have, now! _How_ can you desire to take that away from me? _How_ can you be so _callous_?" She dissolved completely into a mass of sobs, huddling into Jack's arms for support. After several long, painfully awkward moments, Jack patted Elizabeth lightly on the top of her soaked head.

"I'm a pirate, lass," he reminded Elizabeth in a low grunt that was just loud enough that Carlotta could hear him. Elizabeth did not reply, but continued to sob tragically. Carlotta, feeling sickened to watch this dreadful scene, got slowly and shakily to her feet again. Her backside was completely caked in wet sand, but it was washed away in the steady beating of the rainfall. She watched as Jack sighed against Elizabeth's hair, looking distraught. "So tell me, Missus," he said in a shockingly calm voice, "did ye run ashore 'ere really to confront me, or did ye mean to get defeated on purpose, an' let me kill ye?"

Elizabeth wailed. "No," she cried defensively. "That's preposterous, Jack!"

Jack chuckled rather coldly. "Ye wouldn't 'ave minded losin', though, I don' think," he said accusingly. "But that ain't the answer, love. I isn't goin' to kill ye, darlin', despite how much ye drive me to that ravenous urge. Besides, you're far too curious of freedom and life to die now, even with your precious William gone. I don' think ye 'd be able to let me go through with it, anyway, though the evidence is all to the contrary." He gestured vaguely to the island, pointing out the fact that she had come here specifically to fight him.

The married woman did not answer, slumped pitifully in Jack's awkward hold. She looked up at him, her lips quivering. Carlotta's heart was pounding deafeningly in her ears. Her pulse was racing. Elizabeth's hands were rested delicately on Jack's collar, and they were suddenly sliding slowly onto his shoulders. She dragged herself in closer, tilting her chin upward. Their noses were nearly touching, and they were dripping water onto one another in their closeness.

Carlotta was ready to scream with protest. Thankfully, Jack's lip curled in dislike, and he let his arms fall to his sides, releasing Elizabeth. She blinked her red, swollen eyes, but still said nothing. Slipping away from her, Jack turned on his heel, and began to stomp off through the rain and mud. Carlotta's skull was groaning with the unpleasantness of the situation. The image of Elizabeth's face so close to Jack's was rattling inside her like nothing she'd ever experienced before. She wanted to be Elizabeth. Elizabeth had everything she ever wanted—love, marriage, freedom—and it enraged Carlotta to witness her attempt to have Jack as well. Why it infuriated her so, she was unsure, but the truth of it was unbearable, pulsing and living inside of her like a parasite gnawing its way through her gut.

For a moment, both Carlotta and Elizabeth stood watching Jack storm off back towards the out-of-sight _Pearl_, but just as his image began to grow fuzzy in the engulfing bluish atmosphere of the rain, Elizabeth let out a strangled sort of cry. "Jack!" she called desperately. Carlotta glared at her, feeling her heart bruising her ribs. Elizabeth took several steps forward when Jack did not stop. "Jack, wait!" she tried again. The shrinking figure paused in mid step, but did not turn around. Without warning, Elizabeth began to run to him, her feet sticking in the sand as she went.

Bold rage burst maddeningly inside Carlotta, who was shaking uncontrollably with this new feeling. Without thinking, without even stopping to consider the inevitable consequences, she ran forward, too. At that moment, she could not have possibly explained why, or what was specifically running through her head, but she caught up with Elizabeth by some unlikely miracle, and pounced upon her. As they collapsed on one another, scuffling, Jack turned around at last to see Carlotta sitting on Elizabeth's backside, pinning down her shoulders with shivering hands. Carlotta could emit no comprehensible words, and merely sputtered angrily at the woman below her, who was yelping with shock. Carlotta was in such a daze, the experience felt foreign to her. All she knew was that within the next minute, the butt of Jack's pistol came down hard on Elizabeth's head, and the struggling blonde fell still.

"There ye are, darlin'," Jack told her in a low rumble that seemed to mute the rain around her. She looked up at him, not understanding. "A backbone," he explained. "Ye 've finally got some manner of one." His tone held the slightest hint of pride, admiration, and fondness.

Carlotta's heart soared with satisfaction and pleasure that he approved of her actions, and she rolled off the unconscious Elizabeth. It seemed as though her fury had come from another person entirely, not herself. It was so unlike her to attack an innocent person that way. But she just could not stand to see Elizabeth running after Jack, pleading, and teasing his poor heart anymore than she already had. She just couldn't bear it. And so she had acted—not out of logic, but from her purest feral instinct to protect Jack's heart… to protect her heart, as well. As Jack smirked gleefully down at her, something inside her warmed and fluttered strangely to see him happy. What was this feeling, she wondered? It was a pleasant feeling, but it had driven her to attack another person. She had never been so mind-numbingly loyal to anyone before, not even her damned, overbearing father, and it frightened her slightly, but also exhilarated her.

She smiled at Jack as he bent to search Elizabeth's person. It took him several minutes, but he eventually extracted the rolled up navigational charts from a pouch in Elizabeth's armored dress. He stood, and Carlotta copied him. "We've got 'em," Jack hissed delightedly, a slightly demented glint in his eye.

"Sir? Should we return to the ship, then?" She felt breathless from her recent unintentional outburst, and speaking felt strange to her. Her jaw cracked uncomfortably as she spoke. Massaging it lightly, she waited for an answer.

Jack was staring down at Elizabeth's limp form. After a while, he said simply, "Aye," and turned and left without another comment. Carlotta looked down at Elizabeth as well. Even in an unconscious state, with raindrops pelting her tired face and darkening her hair, she was extremely beautiful. She supposed she felt guilty about leaving Elizabeth here for her crew to eventually find when they finally noticed she'd been gone far longer than was probably expected of her, but Carlotta did not have too many qualms about such a thing. The married woman was teasing Jack all over again, and the last time she had done it, Jack had ended up dead. Carlotta would not allow him to die by the hand of a woman again. Jack deserved to die happily in bed, surrounded by his crew and his wenches and his rum. That, surely, was the only way to go for a pirate like him. But then, Carlotta remembered with a jolt, Jack did not want to die at all; he wanted immortality.

The reality of what they'd stolen back from Elizabeth hit Carlotta once again, and she sighed, finally tearing her eyes away from the limp body to trot faithfully after her captain. She had said she would help him, and she would. That certainly did not mean she would have to like it, though, now did it?

They boarded the _Black Pearl_ again hurriedly, anxious to get a head start before Elizabeth woke up and furiously ordered her crew to follow Jack's ship. The crew did not seem eager to make sail in these weather conditions, but the captain, ever the daredevil, waved off their concerns with a cocky smirk and a commanding order. They all complied. Carlotta watched him give his commands with a strange heat burning in her chest. She could not help but breathe rather heavily as she watched him exercise his authority. The power he had brought a shameful, wonderful dampness between her thighs, and she realized something shocking and terrible, then, as an embarrassed but pleased grin played across her face:

She realized finally, as she stood on the rain-slick deck of the _Black Pearl_, watching the soaking wet Jack taking charge at the helm, that she actually _fancied_ her charming pirate captain. Not that it would make any difference, she told herself firmly. She would remain his loyal deckhand, but she would take her feelings no further than that, nor become any more intimate with him. She might have—but, oh, if only she had intimacy left to share.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading, my doves!! I love yooooou. Reviewwwwwwwwwww, pleeeeeeeease!! I love your thoughts! They keep me happy and inspired!


	16. Bloody Idiocy

**A/N:** I AM SO SORRY!! I've been like SUPER uninspired lately, and extreeeemely depressed, and I'm SO sorry I haven't been updating, but I've been too careless and lazy to even go outside, let alone work up the brain power to get creative and write stuff!! But I woke up today in a VERY good mood, despite how sad I am about leaving school. I think it's because yesterday I finished absolutely EVERYTHING that I have to do, and now there's very little left for me! I have one more day of school left, then I have to go to the Art Awards ceremony thing, then a graduation rehearsal, then the week after that I've got the Art Comprehensive Exam, and then ANOTHER graduation rehearsal, then GRADUATION (!!), and then I have to go to school just one last time to pick up my report card!! So I woke up today with this immense guilt about having not finished this chapter yet, so I decided to GET UP OFF MY ASS AND FINISH IT!! So here it is, FINALLY, after OVER A MONTH of keeping you wonderful, sweet people waiting like the little bitch that I am. I made it nice and long to keep you happy (it's 11 pages on Microsoft Word), so I hope you enjoy it, my lovelies!! Once again, I am SO, SO SORRY!!

Thank you for sticking with this story!! I'm impressed! I don't know that I would have the motivation. XD But anyway, thanks SO much for how kind you've been with your reviews and stuff! ENJOY THE CHAPTER!!

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Carlotta flexed her jaw. It cracked slightly, and she grimaced at the uncomfortable feeling. The rain was still causing her to shiver, too, and she had not bathed in what seemed like weeks. Coughing with difficulty, she glanced up at the helm again. All these physical discomforts seemed to worsen at the sight of her captain. He was so handsome, and she hated her body's shameful response to the mere sight of him. Watching him give orders and watching him fight brought her such excitement that she'd never experienced before.

Her life had once been full of boredom—of boredom satiated only by dreams of a freer life, dreams of poetry and love and a family of her very own. It had all been a dream to her, back in Santiago. Now, she had the freedom that she'd only ever imagined, and she had adventure, and she was never bored any longer. She felt excitement! A pure, unrelenting excitement that she'd never known she could feel was flooding through her veins, infused with her boiling blood, set off by the sight of Jack. She smiled, picturing again his fight with Elizabeth Turner back on the island that had taken place a mere quarter of an hour ago.

And then her smile faltered. A contemplative frown found her lips, and her brow furrowed. She was remembering how Jack had suddenly paused in the middle of their battle, how he had seemed to forget he was even fighting, and how his random hesitation had given Elizabeth the power, forcing him to his knees. A little flutter in her Carlotta's heart made her nervous as she recalled this, and she suddenly felt an unrestrained desire to know what had been going through Jack's mind as he'd so unexpectedly fallen short during a swordfight.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way forward cautiously. "Jack," Carlotta called hesitantly over the wind and rain, approaching the sopping pirate at the wheel, "what happened back there?"

The captain did not look at her, but she noticed his lips tighten in annoyance. "Ye ought to show a bit more specificity, m' dear. A lot's happened in me long life."

"Yes, of course," she said apologetically, coming closer to him. "Sorry, sir, I meant…"

"Why the bloody hell are you always so damned sorry? Why are you always so frustratingly agreeable, eh?" His head turned, and their eyes locked, and she felt shame bubble to her surface.

"I… _what_?" she sputtered.

He snorted. "Ye 's a bloody coward—a weakling. You're afraid o' me. You're afraid o' everyone."

"I… but I… I _helped_ you, back there, on that island! I _fought_!"

"Ye did good," he admitted with a smirk, "but why'd ye fight, love? Ye 're so ruddy dependent on everyone else that everythin' ye do is done for to be kept in me good graces, darlin'. Don' pretend otherwise. Ye haven't your own backbone. It's pathetic."

She gaped at him. "But… Jack, I…"

"Not that I don' appreciate your tragically stubborn loyalty, dearie," he said with a chuckle, "but I'm startin' to pity ye, an' I don't like that."

Her heart gave an awkward jolt. "You pity me?" Tears welled, but she blinked them back, and looked down at her hands. Water was running between the folds of skin on her palm, pooling in the deep crevices and dripping down her wrists. "I'm really that pathetic, aren't I?" she sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides again, so the raindrops slid down her slightly quivering fingers then disconnected, getting lost in the surrounding rain. She looked back up at him.

"Didn't quite catch that, love," Jack grumbled. "Ye 'll have t' speak up if ye expect me to hear ye in this torrent." He gestured around them to the storm. She blinked slowly at him, watching the rain dribbling down his chin and getting lost in his matted beard. Droplets were falling from the beads in his hair in a steady rhythm. Her lips twitched in another small smile.

"Nothing, Jack. I just… I understand. I am rather…" She stopped in mid sentence, and decided instead to simply nod in agreement with him. "Look, Jack," she began again, clearing her throat and taking another step forward. "I want to know what happened back there on that island, when you were fighting with Elizabeth. Why did you stop so suddenly? What were you thinking?"

Again, he looked away from her, his forehead creasing in thought. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said in a high-pitched voice that Carlotta was hardly fooled by.

"Oh, get off, Jack," she snapped, and he glanced back at her with a gleam in his eye. "You were fighting Elizabeth, and then you stopped—completely unexpectedly, you fell still, and didn't react when Elizabeth brought you to your knees! _Something_ happened back there, Jack. What was it?"

He smirked slightly. "Good girl," he told her, taking her aback. "Fight me on it. Stick up to me. Get what ye want."

"Shut up," she hissed, not even meaning to. Color rose in her cold, wet cheeks as she realized she'd done exactly what he wanted, and she noticed pride swelling in Jack's beetle-black eyes. Another conflicted flutter exploded inside of her, but she cleared her throat again, and went on. "I mean… Jack, I just… I want to know. I want to _help_. Stop changing the subject to my pitiful nature, and just _tell me_ what happened."

His expression darkened. Several moments passed during which another crack of lightning exploded overhead, making the violent, crashing sea around them glow white.

"Tell me, Jack," she eventually said again. "Did you get hurt? Did Elizabeth stop you, somehow? Were you just unable to fight her because she's a woman?"

Jack's nose gave an odd twitch of disdain. "No," he snapped. "I don' know what happened. It was like I lost consciousness, and when I came to, I couldn' figure what was goin' on, or where I was, or who it was with her sword at me throat. I was completely disoriented. 'T was not a pleasant sensation, love, I'll admit it."

Carlotta's heart expanded with sympathy, and she suddenly wanted to throw her arms around him, but she restrained. "But _why_?" she pressed. "What caused it?"

He scoffed. "Hell if I know," he growled, awkwardly scratching a spot on his hand. "But I don't plan on it happenin' again."

She nodded. "Well… be careful, Jack. You could have been killed."

"Nonsense," Jack spat, tugging his wet collar defensively as though this would hide the rapidly developing bruise on his neck. "I'm incontestably more skilled with a cutlass than that arrantly squalid little _vixen_."

"Of _course_ you are, Jack," Carlotta sighed, brushing away strands of soaked curls from her face as she eyed the purple mark that marred her captain's throat. "I wouldn't dream of thinking otherwise." She squinted at the abrasion angrily, wishing it were gone, wishing Jack had never even _almost_ loved Elizabeth. "You bruise easily," she noted.

His hand moved rapidly to the bruise, and his fingers caressed them gingerly. "I do _not_," he said defensively, raising his eyebrows as though daring her to contradict him. She saw there was another swelling bruise on the back of his hand, and her heart contracted in sympathy, wanting to help him.

"Oh, Jack," she cried, "you're bruised all over!"

"I am not!" he hissed stubbornly. "Now leave me alone, ye ruddy louse. If ye don' mind, I'm goin' to go 'ave a look at these maps a little more closely—in my cabin, _away_ from your prying questions," he added, swaying near to her so she could clearly see the droplets of rainwater running through his matted beard and dripping from the tip of his nose. Carlotta sniffed disdainfully, crossed her arms, and looked away from him, trying desperately not to let on how much she just wanted to be near him, and how much it hurt that he found her presence so annoying. "Mr. Cotton!" Jack shouted suddenly, making her jump. "I place you at the helm, now, sir," he ordered of the kind old man with the parrot on his shoulder. Carlotta recognized him as the man who had pointed her in the direction of the ship back in Nassau Port. She gave him a small smile as he rushed diligently to the wheel and gave the captain a confirming salute. The parrot was huddled against the side of Mr. Cotton's head looking extremely disgruntled and completely drenched. Patches of pink skin were visible through his wet, spiked feathers, and the image was enough to make Carlotta giggle, and feel slightly bad for the soaked bird.

Jack gave Mr. Cotton a vague sort of heading, then made his way off through the downpour towards his cabin. Carlotta followed him instinctively. "Elizabeth barely touched you," she reminded him as she skipped along behind him across the slick deck. "You clearly bruise easily if you've so many marks on you, yet hardly came in contact with her."

"Whatever! I bruise easily; I don't bruise easily—what does it matter, nit? Leave me the bloody hell alone, ye scurvy pest!" He stopped in his tracks, and spun to physically shoo her away. He placed his purpling hand on her shoulder, and gave her a light prod to shove her backward. She stumbled slightly, but remained upright, and glared at him. Just as he was about to turn to leave her again, however, something red on his face glinted in the silver light of the cloudy sky, and her stomach flipped.

Her eyes widening in concern, she reached out and caught his hand in hers. He paused with his back turned on her, so she could not see his face. Some form of tangible awkwardness seemed to pass between them at the point where their skin collided, but Carlotta swallowed down the rising feelings and tugged his arm, turning him back to face her again. "Jack," she said slowly, "you're bleeding."

Dark scarlet blood was diffusing through the droplets of rainwater on Jack's face as it trickled from his nostrils. He sniffed irritably, and his tongue darted out to clean what had reached his lips. She noticed his teeth were stained slightly orange with blood, as well. "Oh, bleedin' hell," Jack snarled, rolling his eyes and raising the back of one hand to his nose and wiping it clean. The blood continued to flow, though, and Carlotta let out a squeak of worried fear.

"Jack!" she whined. "Oh, Jack, here, let me help you…" She was just searching around her person for something to help stem the bleeding when Jack snorted in annoyance and swatted away her helping hand.

"I'm fine, missy," he said, wiping at his nose again before spitting red-tinted saliva onto the slippery deck. Carlotta pulled a face at this gross display. His brow was furrowed with impatience. "Now, leave me be."

He turned his back on her yet again, and she saw him wipe his face once more. As he stomped off, she followed disobediently. She trotted behind him all the way to his cabin, and only when he swung open his door and turned slightly to shut it behind him did he realize she was following. "Damned obstinate, subservient little wench," he grumbled, swaying on the spot and throwing up his hands. "Go away!"

She could leave him to himself, she considered, narrowing her eyes at him contemplatively, and it would make him happy. But then, she thought, he was not taking good care of himself, and she did fancy him, and could not deny that the thought of being alone with her captain in his cabin certainly cheered her. Her heart fluttered at the idea, and she bit her lip, smiling slightly. "I won't be a bother," she pleaded, keeping her racing pulse and thoughts to herself. "Just let me take care of you."

Jack gave her a very strange look, his eyes traveling all over her dripping face as though attempting to absorb the image and memorize each feature in these few moments. "Ye ain't me mother, Carla, darlin'," he said, glaring at her. "I'm not ill. It's a simple ruddy nosebleed, ain't it? But…" He gave her a licentious smirk, and his gaze moved down to her flat chest as though he could see right through her layers. Her heart gave a terrible lurch of emotion and discomfort. "We haven't any proper medics aboard. Mr. Cotton's the one who knows most stuff, but 'e hasn't really a woman's touch, 'as 'e, now?" His lips retracted in a small, leering grin. Carlotta spotted blood on the inside of his lips, and shivered as worry suddenly surpassed her annoyance. She sighed, immediately choosing to ignore his lascivious nature, and pushed gently passed him into his cabin.

"Your disregard for your own well-being is rather worrying, Jack," she told him calmly as he shut the door behind them. The sound of the beating rain became instantly muffled, and the resulting quiet in the captain's cabin made Carlotta's heart rate quicken slightly, for some reason. She removed her thick waistcoat, which was weighing her down in its soaked state. Moving steadily to the back of the cabin to the compartment where Jack's sleeping quarters resided, she found the very same tray of bandaging on his bedside desk that he had used to dress her stab wound. She bent over it, recalling a time—which seemed an eternity ago—when she had taken care of her mother's nosebleed a few weeks back. It had not been difficult. All it needed was care. Carlotta took a small strip of the rags, and turned again to look at Jack. He was holding his head to the ceiling, his hand at his nose, looking displeased. "Oh, come here, Jack," she said, holding out her arms for him.

Raising his eyebrows at her, he sashayed slowly over to the bed and sat down upon it as though it were his throne. His eyes remained fixed on her as she stood above him, pulling his hand away from his face and letting the blood leak down his face, and tangle in his moustache. She pressed the crumpled rag to his nose, and placed her other hand on the back of his head, pushing him gently so he leaned forward slightly. "You must keep your head _down_, not back," she told him tenderly, her voice very meek. She knelt at his feet, holding the rag diligently to his face. His black eyes fell on hers, but she could not bring herself to stare directly back at him. Her gaze flitted about the cabin awkwardly, intentionally avoiding him. If she held that look, she didn't know what she might succumb to under her captain's intense power.

"There is entirely no need for such nonsensical fretting, Carla, m' dear. Why don' ye get off your knees and get out o' here, eh?" Her face flushed, and she looked back at him, pressing her lips together tightly to resist arguing with him. He grinned. "Well, I never thought I'd ever hear myself tellin' a woman to get off 'er knees, but in this case, you might as well, if ye ain't doin' anythin' more worthwhile down there." His dirty, dripping hand slinked around hers that held the cloth to his nose. "Let me take care o' me _self_, eh?"

Carlotta scoffed. "You won't even bother to take care of yourself, though. I know you won't. You'll hole yourself up and pour over those stupid charts, and let yourself bleed until you pass out."

"It's only a nosebleed, wench!" he spat, suddenly clutching her wrist very tightly so she gasped in pain. He tugged her away from him, and wrenched the rag from her grip, placing it to his nose on his own. "If it were anythin' much worse, there'd be reason to fret, but it's only a lousy _nosebleed_! I've gotten 'em before."

"Those charts are going to distract you from everything else that's important in the world," Carlotta whined. "You're obsessed with what doesn't matter, and it's going to get you killed!"

Jack flung her backward so she fell upon the floorboards. He snorted. "On the contrary," he said flatly, "it'll let me _live_."

"Forever?" she asked quietly, wincing and massaging her injured shoulder that was starting to sting again. "Why would you _want_ that? Why would _anyone_ want that?"

"Ye can't understand, ye moron," he spat, standing up and crossing to his desk. "You've never _died_."

She sniffed indignantly. "No, I haven't," she admitted, "but at least I can recognize how painful it would be to live forever!"

"It's less painful than dyin' too young."

"How would you know?" she spat, finally gathering the strength to push herself up from Jack's cabin floor. "I'm sure your inevitable descent into Hell after death would be just as painful as living eternally and watching everyone around you die. Isn't that Hell, as it is? Either way, you'd be damned."

"Then why not strive for the damnation that doesn't involve death?"

"Because you'll be alone! You'll be alone forever!"

"So what?" Jack's looked up at her from his chair looking positively distraught with aggravation. "What do I care if everyone dies? Let 'em! I'm not one to grieve."

Carlotta shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest with an irritated sigh. "Oh, you liar. The loss of—what's his name?—William Turner still makes you bitter! You're not as heartless as you pretend to be!"

Jack stood at her bold declaration, his expression shockingly violent, and his eyes appeared bottomless, black tunnels. "Aren't I?" he grumbled, his voice harrowingly low. "I'd have been willing to kill Elizabeth for those charts, after as good as killing her husband so soon after they'd been married. How is that not evidence of heartlessness?"

She swallowed nervously. "You're not heartless. You loved Elizabeth. You didn't mean to part her from her husband! You more or less saved his life, after all, didn't you? You loved Elizabeth! No one heartless could ever love anyone."

"I did _not _love her!" he roared, making her flinch and cower. "You sound just like her, trying to convince me I'm a good man, when there's absolutely _nothing_ to support such a ridiculous theory."

"But in your words, you _almost_ loved her! Doesn't that prove you're at least _capable_ of love? How could anyone heartless be capable of love?"

"Don't push it, darlin'," he growled dangerously, taking a step closer to her, and looking absolutely livid.

Carlotta, however, was finally cracking. "You're _not_ heartless," she cried, "but you're a bloody idiot!" She slammed one weak fist against his upper arm, but he was immovable. "I wish you weren't so stupid! Why don't you get it? Why don't you see that death would at least be more bearable than living forever and witnessing everyone you know and love _die_? After you've done everything there is to be done, you'll have nothing more to live for, but you won't be able to end it! You'll just go on and on and on, and… you're just such an idiot! Everything you love would be gone, and you'd still be there, going mad with boredom. Everyone you loved would have died, and you would still be there, going mad with grief! How could you live with yourself forever, with all that grief, and all the painful memories of the countless losses you'd be sure to experience? How can you be such an _idiot_ about this?"

"Because…" he mumbled. His voice was surprisingly steady in contrast to his furious expression. "Because… I don't love anyone, anyway, so I'm not very likely to grieve."

"But there's still time," she sighed desperately. "And if you live forever, there will undoubtedly be too much time—plenty of opportunities for you to fall in love. And then, of course, your love will die. How could you live like that?"

He avoided her eyes, and stared vaguely somewhere over her head. "That's not likely. Love's not exactly something I'm aiming to find."

"It never is," Carlotta said, her heart swelling painfully so her chest ached, "but it just happens."

"So say the fairytales," Jack snapped. "That's not how the real world works, though, dearie."

"Then how do you explain what happened between you and Elizabeth?"

"_Nothing_ happened between me and Elizabeth! I'm not made to love!"

Carlotta stomped her foot, and he glanced back at her, his eyes swimming with something she could not discern. "God, _damn_ it, Jack!" she cried. "Don't you care about _anyone_? Won't you even _care_ when your crew dies, or when Elizabeth dies, or when _I_ die?"

His mouth opened, but he did not answer. He dropped his hand from his face cautiously, and sniffed. His nosebleed had dissipated. He tossed the bloody rag onto his desk behind him, and began to nibble on his thumbnail, looking uncertain. She watched him sadly. After several long moments of tense silence, he said, "Of course I'd care." He pulled his hand away from his mouth looking awkward. "That don't necessarily mean I'd mope around about it forever."

"But why would you even put yourself in such a situation? You're so selfish, and so _stupid_!" She punched him again, though uselessly. Her small fist collided with his hard chest, but he did not move. He lurched ever so slightly, seeming surprised by her sudden pitiful attempt at physical violence.

He let out a breath of laughter. "You don't know what you're saying, ye madwoman," he grunted irritably. She made a sound of annoyance, then raised an open hand and slapped him as hard as she could across his face. He stumbled backward slightly, his eyes wide, but then his face contorted with increasing seriousness. She was breathing hard, and her heart was pounding wildly inside her. Shock was pulsing in her veins, but adrenaline was controlling her, overpowering her desire to make her captain happy. She raised her hand once again, and it swung forward, but he caught her wrist, and held it tight. His fingers were digging into her soft flesh, pressing against her veins, and she knew he could surely feel her pulse racing there beneath his fingertips. The color in her cheeks rose rapidly, and she could feel herself growing hot with embarrassment and desire—the desire for him to embrace her, keep her, bring her fully into his life and make her feel included, like a part of something, like a part of _him_. She just wanted him to care about her. She just wanted to be near him. And here, so close to him, with his hand around her wrist sensing her excited pulse, her lust and need for him increased dramatically, making her entire body swell in his grasp with her overwhelming desire.

Entirely unsure of what to do, she raise her other free hand, and swung thoughtlessly at him again. He caught her. She was trapped. Both her wrists were captured in Jack's crushing grip, and she could not move. She tightened her hands into fists and struggled weakly, but her deafening heart distracted her, so she was hardly motivated to get away. She loved this closeness, despite the anger that was prominent between them, now. It swirled palpably around them, and they breathed it in. It was a passionate, flaming anger that was crawling maddeningly under her skin, and surely his, too. It was driving her wild, and making her knees quiver. Her thighs were aching horribly with the effort to keep standing and not collapse from the intensity of his radiating body heat. She could barely feel the coldness of her wet clothes as they clung to her, for his nearness made her temperature rise exponentially. Her lips parted, but she could not bring herself to speak. She could think of nothing to say. She could barely even breathe when he held her captive this way. And then, she felt herself moving against her will. She was being walked backwards, her trembling feet dragging as Jack pushed her.

When her back hit a wall, her heart seemed to fail. Jack did not stop moving. He continued to walk forward, his hands still clamped viciously around her wrists. He stopped only when his body was flush up against hers, and her arms were trapped on either side of her head. She let out a gasp of surprise as he pressed her firmly against the wall, giving her no room for escape. She tried to wriggle her way out, but he just chuckled and smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously. In her futile, effortless struggle to break free from Jack, she felt him moving against her hips, and she grew suddenly warm between her legs. She let out an involuntary groan, and shut her eyes, trying to stem her mounting lust for the man who had her pinned against a wall in his empty cabin. He could take her, here, she thought fearfully. He could steal her right now, and there would be nothing she could do about it. They were alone. No one would help her, now. An equal concentration of terror and excitement flooded her, but she didn't have time to consider her situation anymore. Her mind was wiped entirely blank by the sudden feel of something soft pressing against her mouth. She gasped, and her eyes fluttered open again. He was kissing her. The shocking tenderness of it made her squirm with an explosion of confused, conflicted emotions inside her. Her movement made him grunt, and she felt him grind his hips hard against hers. Her heart leapt with terror, and she squealed fearfully against his lips.

Jack ran his tongue over her quivering mouth, and her eyes rolled back in her head. He pulled his face away. "Are you really so afraid o' me?" he whispered into her face. His warm breath was quite as malodorous as usual, but it hardly affected her, now. She was too caught up in his eyes to notice his stench.

She shook her head delicately, but could not speak. She did not fear him—just what he could do to her, how he could use her, and break her so easily. That was what she was afraid of. But Jack—oh, she fancied him painfully.

"Then why d' ye fight me, lass?" He leaned forward again, and Carlotta held her breath anxiously while her heart strummed madly. His mouth caressed hers again in a rather whiskery kiss, and she could taste blood on him. She coughed, but he did not pull back this time. He took advantage of her parted lips and thrust his tongue between them, stroking her teeth and the inside of her mouth. The sensations were too strong, and she shuddered violently against Jack's warm body. Her skin was burning intensely all over, and her tongue felt like it was on fire as it embraced his. She had no idea what she was supposed to do, but instinct drove her forward, and her lips worked of their own accord to kiss him back. It seemed so surreal. Though she could feel her heart hammering beneath her chest, and the heat rising in her body, and the pressure of Jack's lips on hers, it seemed too impossible to really be happening. She sighed as he devoured her mouth hungrily, and his body crushed hers powerfully against the wall. His fingers felt scorching on the heated flesh of her wrists, and she began to writhe with desire. It was all too much for her.

His mouth disconnected from hers, and the air felt cold on her raw, swollen lips. She gasped when his tongue met her jaw line, and her eyes rolled again. The whole situation was so sudden, so intense. She could not handle this! "Oh god," she sighed breathlessly. "Stop!"

Jack sniggered against her neck, and bit down—hard. She yelped, and clawed helplessly at the air with her incapacitated hands. His lips enveloped the flesh around the bite mark, and he suckled it gently, torturously. Her hips squirmed, for her undergarments were growing increasingly and uncomfortably damp every time his hot, wet tongue made such heavenly contact with her needy skin. "No," he mumbled greedily against her as he tormented her further by taking her earlobe into his mouth. "Ye don' mean that. You want me. I can tell. I can taste it."

She could only sigh in response as his lips trailed to her throat, kissing a tormenting path down to her collarbone. Her hands were shaking, desperate to be freed so they could embrace Jack, and pull him closer into her. His beard and moustache tickled her delightfully as he kissed her shoulder, sliding the loose neckline of her doublet and linen shirt down her arm. A teasing erection was digging into her stomach, and her body shifted against it instinctively as her heart leapt with the realization of its presence.

"Oh god," he grunted, and he attacked her mouth again with his. She moaned loudly, making him laugh against her. "I knew ye wanted this," he said, pressing his hardness roughly against her.

When he let her mouth go once again, she groaned. "God, Jack," she breathed with difficulty. "Why… are you…"

"Shut up," he said harshly, and her eyes began to sting as they watered with the intensity of the moment. "Don't move," he commanded of her, and he let go of her wrists. She did not lower her arms, though they were extremely sore, now. His hands trailed to her doublet, and he undid the buttons slowly. Each time one was let loose, she felt her heartbeat quicken slightly with fearful anticipation and conflicted lust. He did not remove the doublet when all the buttons had been undone, but merely shoved it aside and allowed one hand to reach suddenly downward and beneath her shirt, while his other held both of hers above her head against the wall. His palm was wide enough to hold both of her wrists in his grasp.

His fingers danced lightly up her stomach, which tightened and pulsed as they dragged over her flesh. When his fingers found her breast, she whimpered, and shut her eyes as an unexpected tear fell, stinging her drying cheeks. His nails scraped over her nipple, and her chest heaved, pressing his hand harder against her. He laughed cruelly. "You're a tiny little thing, aren't you?" he teased, abusing her small, sore breast with painful scratches and deliberately violent pinches. "How convenient." Her bottom lip quivered, and another tear rolled down her face. She shook her head, and turned away from him, though her eyes were already closed. Why was he being so mean at a time like this?

It's just his nature, she reminded herself as he moved on to her other breast. She flinched when she suddenly felt his lips on her cheeks again, lapping up her tears. She shivered. "Jack," she sighed. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because ye want it," he hissed. "Besides, it's been over a week for me since I've had any, an' it's an excellent way to celebrate our victory over that damned Mrs. _Turner_, don' ye think?"

She squealed in pain as he dug his nails into her breast. "Ah! No, Jack! There's nothing to celebrate, Jack, and I _don't_ want it!" But her words were unconvincing as she sounded so breathless, and she was honestly aching for release, and too unmotivated to bother throwing him off of her. "Stop," she groaned, throwing her head back with pleasure as his mouth once again found the nape of her neck and nibbled at her tender flesh there. He removed his hand from beneath her shirt, and she sighed with relief, hoping that meant he would stop his persistent torture, now.

But she hoped in vain. The grip on her wrists over her head grew suddenly tighter, and she whimpered, opening and closing her fists in a futile, unenthusiastic struggle. The fingers of his other hand traveled further downward, and she let out an unintentional moan when she felt him lingering on the waistband of her breeches. "Come on, lass," he said in a low, raspy, growling voice that sounded thick with lust. She opened her eyes, and gazed straight into his. They were misty and sparkling with desire, and the sight made her heart seem to stop. She could not breathe. "Ye know ye want me, Carla. Don't lie to me, little girl." Her bottom lip was still quaking fearfully, and more tears continued to flow silently for reasons she could not explain, but she could not deny that she wanted him. Still, she didn't think she could say it out loud. She didn't think she could even bring herself to nod. She just stared at him, and he seemed to take this as encouragement, because he leaned forward to kiss her again. She did not kiss him back, but that did not appear to hinder him. Completely blank, she kept her lips together, and did not move as he untied her breeches with one skilled hand. She would not betray how much she wanted him, or how pleasing his attentions were. She couldn't.

His fingers teased her waist, and slid down her hips, dragging the fabric of her breeches downward. She held her breath, and closed her eyes again. She could feel the erection in his breeches now pressing fully against her bare skin. The pleasure mounted higher as he rubbed against her, and she clenched her shut eyelids more tightly. Her restrained hands were balled into shaking fists, and her blunt fingernails were digging sharply into her palms.

The door slammed suddenly open. "Cap'n!"

Jack suddenly jumped up in surprise, and leapt away from her. Carlotta slumped forward without his weight there to support her, and panted breathlessly against the wall, clinging to it for dear life. She looked up. Mr. Gibbs had just come sprinting forward, but had stopped in his tracks at the peculiar sight. His eyebrows were high on his forehead as he glanced from her to Jack. She had her doublet undone and her loose breeches were lingering at her hips, threatening to fall. There were tears on her face, and Jack looked extremely disgruntled. She could only imagine what it must have looked like to poor Mr. Gibbs. She could not bring herself to say anything, however, and simply slid down the wall to rest in a heap on the floor.

"Jack," Mr. Gibbs said in a serious, warning tone. "Ye haven't… ye didn't…"

Jack glared at him furiously. "…What?"

"…_force _yerself on…?"

"No!" Jack spat defensively. "I wouldn't dream of such a thing, ye imbecile!" He smacked Gibbs on the back of the head, so the graying man winced.

"I'm sorry, Cap'n. It just looked like…" His face turned pink as he rubbed his head and gave his superior a most apologetic expression. "Anyway, Cap'n… I, er… I thought I should inform you, there's er… there's a ship's followin' us, sir. It's Miss Swann—I mean, er… Mrs. Turner's ship, Cap'n." Jack's expression hardened, and his brow creased in deep fury. "Thought you ought to know."

Without another glance at Carlotta, Jack marched heavily across his cabin and out the door—through which it was just barely visible that the rain had stopped. Mr. Gibbs seemed to struggle with himself. He glanced from her and then to the door, which was dangling open on its hinges. He moved towards it slightly, then grimaced, paused, and looked back at her again. "Are you alright, Miss Carlotta?" he asked, finally. "He didn't… y'know…?"

"No," she assured him honestly, but probably not sounding all too convincing, what with the way her voice shook uncontrollably as she spoke. "I'm fine. I promise. Thank you. You're too kind." He gave her a relieved smile, and then hurried anxiously after his captain.

When the door closed behind Mr. Gibbs, the cabin fell silent, except for the sounds of the crew's movements out on the deck. Her entire body was tingling all over. There was an odd ringing in her ears she could not shake. She swallowed, but her throat was aching and felt swollen, so it was rather difficult. Her jaw was still stiff, so she flexed it, and it gave an angry crack. She sighed. The reality of what had just happened was too strange. It didn't make sense to her. How could all of that have really just taken place? Jack would never have done that, would he? Who was she kidding?—of _course_ he would! She'd always known he'd eventually try to seduce her to satisfy his own endless cravings, but if only he knew how she felt. If he had known how much he really meant to her, would he have done that? She doubted it. If he knew how much she fancied him, he would have her thrown off the ship, most likely. Jack could never settle. That was why he could never know. He would never want to be around her, because it would be too awkward. And knowing his rather violent solutions to his problems, he would probably just have her killed, or at the very least, abandoned at their next stop.

And then, it struck her like an iron in her face as her body suddenly gave a nasty throb of agony. "Oh god," she groaned, clasping a hand to her chest and the other to her neck. Her breasts were aching, and she wouldn't be surprised if they were covered in bruises from Jack's rough handling with his wonderful, deft fingers. Her heart panged with joy as she realized she'd finally felt him on her—finally experienced what it would be like to be in his strong, capable hands while he used her for his pleasure. It was wonderful, and overwhelming. A satisfied smile crossed her lips. She touched the painful bite impression on her neck. Running a finger over the indentations left by Jack's teeth, she closed her eyes, and recalled how it felt to have his mouth on her flesh. God, it was so torturous. She could barely believe this had all happened, but it really had, and she felt immensely elated because of it. Her hands fell to her lap. Her breathing was still heavy, and the place between her legs was still pounding greedily, unsatisfied. Glancing cautiously at the door, her fingers trailed to her loosened breeches, and slipped beneath them. She felt her knickers; they were completely soaked through. Removing her hand again, she chuckled softly to herself, still in total disbelief.

She sat in continued silence for a long while, mulling over the recent events, shaking her head in shock. The steady rocking of the ship was calming, and her eyelids began to droop. Realizing, then, how exhausted she was, and how badly her eyes were stinging, she gave a painful yawn. She rubbed her cheeks, supposing her jaw was so stiff because of how little sleep she'd had. Too sore and worn out to stand up, Carlotta dragged herself on all fours over to Jack's bed. She collapsed upon his sheets with a groan of comfort. She could not open her eyes again. They seemed glued shut with sleepiness. Her limbs were aching and heavy, as though they'd been filled with metal in the past several seconds.

Images of Jack and recollections of the feelings he'd produced in her flashed in her mind like precursors to a dream as reality began to float away. Her whole life was changing drastically, and it was all thanks to Jack. Now, it seemed, so was her state of mind. She smiled into the very distant pillow, and the world spun for an instant as she fell sharply into a very deep, peaceful sleep.

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**A/N:** THANK YOU FOR READING, MY DARLING LOVES!! I hope you enjoyed it!! Oh, and btw: In my desperation to post this as soon as I wrote it, I have not yet read it over, so PLEASE, if you notice any errors, LET ME KNOW!! Thank you!! I love you all very, very much, and I hope this chapter was satisfying after all that time I kept you waiting (sorry!!). Thanks again for reading and staying with it!!


	17. Sweet Fear

**A/N:** I'm real sorry about how long this is taking me. I assure you, I'm not giving up on this story, because I'm DETERMINED to finish it, but it just might take me a while. I'm rather uninspired, and surprisingly busy for such a free summer. I'm EIGHTEEN, now, by the way!! WOOHOO!! Just an update on my life. I'm finally allowed to be my own person, now! Isn't it magical?? Yaaaay. Aaaanyway, back to the stuff you actually give a shit about, HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER!! It was gonna be longer than this, but I felt SUPER bad about not having given you anything in so long, and it seemed like an okay place to pause for now. I know this chapter's all chit-chat, but it was important for building Carlotta's relationship with Jack, in my opinion. True, it may seem useless to you lot, but it was worth while.

Oh, and a little fun note about the title: I was inspired by two songs that both reminded me of the relationship between Jack and Carlotta. I felt like the song **Afraid by Motley Crue** reflected Carlotta's point of view, and I felt like the song **Sweet Tooth by Marilyn Manson** reflected Jack's point of view. I combined the two titles for the title of this chapter--hence, Sweet Fear. Huzzah!! I'd give you the lyrics, but... I think y'all are far more interested in just getting to the damned chapter by now, so... no more stalling!! ON WITH THE CHAPTER!!

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A distant voice roused her curiously. Dizziness struck her as the low, rumbling words reverberated through her skull. "What?" she mumbled. She turned her head, which spun in confusion. She groaned, and shifted sleepily. She had barely even realized how tired she was until she'd collapsed on Jack's bed. It made sense; after all, she hadn't slept for quite some time—let alone, slept peacefully. Why would someone wake her from such a pleasant state, she wondered vaguely, feeling entirely too lazy to think logically. "What do you want?" she sighed to the intruder, nuzzling into her arm which she had coiled around her face.

"Darlin'," came Jack's amused tone from across his cabin, "I think ye're slightly delirious." She could practically hear the smirk on his face, though she couldn't see it. "Ye haven't been in me rum, have ye, now?"

She smiled, and emitted a breath of laughter. "No, I have not, Jack," she said with a yawn, "but perhaps I am a bit disoriented when I'm woken."

"Obviously." The voice was much closer now. She opened her eyes at last, and flinched slightly in surprise to see Jack standing over her, looking shockingly tall from her angle.

Carlotta sat up, glaring blearily at her captain. Her shoulder was aching and itchy beneath her damp bandaging, though the rest of her was dry at that point. She winced, and rubbed her stiff neck, rolling her shoulder back to try and ease the soreness. "I'm up," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm up, I'm up. Sorry, Jack."

He smirked. "There ain't nothin' to be sorry 'bout, love," he said. "No need to apologize for wantin' to be in me bed, Carla, m' dear. It's entirely understandable."

She blinked. "Wha—what?" she asked in bewilderment. "No! I didn't… I mean, I wasn't… I'm so sorry! I don't mean to intrude upon your personal space! Sorry." She shifted painfully, and scrambled to the edge of the bed, trying to avoid getting too near to Jack's figure. When her feet swung over the bedside and passed by Jack's legs, there was a noticeable change in her heart rate yet again. She swallowed with difficulty, ashamed of her involuntary reaction to such closeness. She was trembling slightly, and she hoped desperately that Jack couldn't tell. Glancing back at him, she noticed he was shaking his head and squinting curiously at her as he scratched the back of his bruised hand.

"Always sorry," he muttered quietly. She pursed her lips in an embarrassed smile that was more like a grimace of shame, and turned her back on him. She moved away from him, feeling awkward as she stretched her arm to try to scratch the irritated skin around her stab wound. "Tell me, lassie," Jack said suddenly in a clear, rumbling voice that made Carlotta's chest contract nervously. "Did I hurt you?"

This question threw Carlotta so fiercely that for a moment, she couldn't think. Her mouth opened wide to answer, but then her mind went blank, and she forgot entirely what he was asking her. She turned slowly to look at him again, but strongly wished she hadn't once she could see Jack's handsome, dark face again. The sight of him just made everything more difficult. He was so beautiful, and it was torturously distracting. "Er…" she stuttered, blinking furiously to take her mind off what had taken place earlier. "Er… What? What do you…?"

"I mean, did I hurt you, this mornin'?" He swallowed. His nostrils were flaring awkwardly, and he was twisting his rings around on his right hand, which still bore the marks where Elizabeth had scratched him. "Ye were so…" Jack's lips moved silently for a few seconds while his eyes skirted about the cabin nervously. "…Petrified," he finished, "an' I wondered if I hurt ye, or… y'know… opened any ol' wounds tha'…"

She knew where he was going with it, and she didn't want to hear it. She didn't think she could stand to hear the events of her past repeated by her captain. "No," she said quickly, cutting him off. "It was just… unexpected."

"But ye were so afraid," Jack said with a shake of his magnificent head. His kohl-lined eyes were sparkling at her, making her heart contract with confusion. "Ye were so afraid of—of _me_," he hissed, baring his yellowing teeth horribly so the golden false ones glinted in the light of the hanging lanterns. "Women 'ave hated me before, an' many 'as been intimidated by me, but none 'ave e'er genuinely _feared_ me the way ye do, lass." His brow became knitted in an almost comically confused expression. "It's jus'… unusual," he admitted in a low, contemplative tone. "I'm not used to it. So, if I hurt you in some way by forcibly imposin' meself on yer tender, young graces, then I am truly sorry to have caused you such fright, but I assure you, my dear, that I would never intend to do ye any harm, so ye've nothin' to fear of me, love. I'd ne'er force meself on ye. I'm not like what's-'is-face, savvy?" Carlotta's chest swelled with adoration, but confusion was giving her a throbbing headache. This was so unlike him, to apologize so politely.

"Thank you, Jack," she told him in a quiet, slightly quivering voice. "But… why are you being so, er… _respectful_?"

Jack snorted. "What, can't even a pirate be civil every now and again?"

She shrugged. "It's just unlike you."

"Well," he said in a strained tone, "you're easy to pity." He scratched a spot on his hand again, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "What can I say? You're pitiful, an' ye make even the innocent experience an astonishing amount of unanticipated and unnecessary guilt for it."

Her heart sank. "I… am not… _pitiful_!" she cried, balling her delicate hands into fists again. "And I never asked for what you started this morning. It _was_ forced! Don't try to blame _me_ for making you feel guilty, when you _know_ that such guilt was entirely valid to feel, because whether or not you'll believe it, you're a good man, and you _know_ you were doing wrong by me, even if only unconsciously." She gulped, feeling the heat rushing to her face in embarrassment. What was getting into her, lately? Speaking back to a pirate captain? Accusing him of attempted rape? How could she _dare_ to be so bold? And she couldn't even deny that she hadn't been contemplating submitting herself to his physical advancements. As unclean as it was, she could not truthfully say she did not want him. The hypocrisy of her own mind was driving her mad, and she swore she could feel her skull imploding upon itself under the pressure of all her pathetic thoughts and feelings. Now feeling guilty herself, she sighed. "I'm sorry, sir," she said meekly, massaging her continually stiff neck. "I shouldn't be so rude to you. You've been nothing but good to me, sir. I appreciate your generosity enormously."

Jack let out a sudden, unexpected bark of laughter, and Carlotta flinched in surprise. That was not the reaction she'd been expecting. She'd rather been anticipating another slap from his dominating hand, or at the very least, a scolding word. On the contrary, however, Jack's eyes were now gleaming with amusement. "'S good t' see ye're finally speakin' yer mind, love. I 's glad t' know ye've got th' guts to say what ye feel, but—" His expression darkened again, and Carlotta held her breath. "I'd ne'er rape a soul, let alone one so fragile like you, darlin'. Not after ye're past experience in—"

Carlotta cleared her throat, again not wanting to hear that kind of pity on Jack's lips. She shut her eyes tightly, and held up her hand to stop his speech. "Ah… I'd like to forget it. I can't exactly succeed in that if you're to continuously revisit the subject." She opened her eyes again to see the corners of Jack's mouth twisting. His eyebrows were raised in a look that suggested he was impressed. She smiled. "The only wound I think I can devote my attentions to, now, is this one," she said, gesturing stiffly to her shoulder. Jack moved towards her in his usual flamboyant gait, glaring studiously at the area that he had previously bandaged for her, and the tension between them that lingered from that morning seemed to suddenly fall away. "It stings," she told him, wincing as he turned her around so that he could gently prod the area around the injury. "Do you think it's infected?"

"How am I to know, love, without takin' yer clothes off?" Though she couldn't see his face, she had a knowing feeling that he was smirking, and possibly scanning her up and down in his usual lascivious way.

She rolled her eyes, but felt her cheeks flush pink. "I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I suppose it doesn't matter all that much. Never mind, then. But these bandages are certainly becoming extraordinarily uncomfortable."

"Are they? Why don't ye remove 'em, then, eh?"

Carlotta bit her lip and cleared her throat. "I ought to," she admitted resentfully. She could not get them off without help, but she wanted desperately not to allow Jack access to her body the way he had before—not after what had taken place between them earlier. Her shoulder gave another nasty twinge, as though her body was reminding her how much more comfortable she would be when she was free of the damp, itchy cloth that bound her. She let out a long, slow breath, and shook her head wearily. "Be a gentleman," she whispered, her voice fearful and high pitched. She swallowed painfully, shut her eyes, and slid her already unbuttoned doublet off her narrow shoulders. It pooled at her feet in a heap, and she slipped her fingers beneath her linen shirt to lift it up and over her head. Her massive hair proved a barrier, but Jack's helping hands lifted up her enormous curls, and assisted in pulling the thin fabric off of her. She knew she was shivering with anxiety because of his presence while she was topless, but she bit her tongue, and ignored the frustrating feelings mounting inside her.

His hands were gentle, though his fingers were calloused and rough to the touch. He undid the knots he'd tied at her back, and unraveled the fabric from her slowly while she lent her aid in removing it more quickly. She was shaking far more violently when the bandages finally fell away, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Carlotta held her breath as Jack took in the sight of her bare back. She wrapped her arms around her chest awkwardly, hooking them in place by digging her dirty fingernails into the flesh under her arms.

"Looks fine t' me," he said carelessly. "A bit red, swollen—Well, I don' know. I'm no medic. Might be a bit infected, though."

She cleared her throat, which was dry and sore. "Thank you, then, Captain," she said quickly, her voice quivering in her desperation to cover herself again. She bent down rapidly to scoop up her fallen shirt with one hand, while the other arm remained steadfastly clamped over her chest. She threw it back over herself, and felt a tense knot that had been building in her stomach suddenly release. She let out a slow breath. Though she was not entirely satisfied by Jack's deduction that her wound '_might_ be a bit infected,' she didn't think she could stand to allow him to examine her bare back much more. In any case, it did at least feel much more relieving to her injury to have those damp bandages removed. The cool air of the sea seemed to caress the broken flesh at her shoulder lovingly, refreshing it after its long period of confinement.

"And… just so you know," she piped up in a small, uncertain voice. "I'm not afraid of you." Why she was opening up to him, she had no idea. It just spilled from her as though she were a bucket with an accidental leak. She just couldn't help but feel close to him, after all that he had done for her—and despite all he had done _to_ her. "All I am afraid of," she admitted slowly, meekly, "is intimacy."

Jack's eyebrows creased, and his lips tightened as he tilted his head back to stare at her in confused wonder. "I'm unsure as to whether or not that's so much better 'n you bein' afraid o' _me_, love," he said. She blinked wetly at him, feeling her eyelids sting.

"What do you mean?" she asked him.

"Oh, Carla, m' dear," he cooed, swinging his arm around her delicately so as not to upset her injury. "One cannot live well without intimacy, rather as women throughout the world can hardly live without me." She snorted, and felt her spirits uplift in the lightheartedness of his comment. "Ah, but I am serious, love," he warned. "I'd be happier to know ye were merely afraid o' your dear ol' captain, darlin', rather than to know ye feared bein' close t' people." His eyebrows rose, and his moustache twitched as his lips squirmed at some entertaining thought. "I don't altogether mind a woman who's afraid o' me, as a matter o' fact, y'know. As it is, sometimes fear can make the experience all that more exhilarating, and it's really not all that—"

"Jack!"

"—Yes, well, all in all, my point remains, Carla, that intimacy is a good… great… wonderful…fantastical… phantasmagorical… _pleasurable_ thing… and it can't be entirely avoided if ye expect to live an happy life."

Her gaze fell to Jack's boots. "I know, Jack," she sighed. "I can't stay afraid forever. But that terror is just so… it's so stubbornly immobile inside me. I can't make it go away."

Jack's fingers fidgeted on her shoulder, and she glanced at them, feeling the color rise in her cheeks. "Well, perhaps the only way to overcome said fear is to take a chance at intimacy despite it, like laughing in its stupid, ugly face, and proving it's nothing but a bleedin' idiot, and it's tellin' ye nothin' but lies, eh?" She looked back up at him, trying not to laugh as she plucked his fingers from her shoulder with her own hand.

"Perhaps," she agreed. "In my own time, though."

"Of course!" Jack said immediately, looking unconvincingly solemn.

"The fact is that if I get close to you… I'd be vulnerable. More than I already am."

"Which is saying something, might I point out."

"Oh, shut it." She swatted him on his arm, while his beetle black eyes sparkled enticingly. "I mean… if I open myself to you, you'd have the vantage point to betray me, the way…" She swallowed. "I've just… never been close to anyone before, except… my parents, and they…"

"Y'mean, I might take advantage of ye like yer ruddy father did, eh?"

She shrugged vaguely, avoiding Jack's piercing gaze. "Si," she responded quietly without thinking. "I fear getting close to you, Jack, because I fear eventually hating you."

He grinned. "Ah, but I am so easy to hate, aren't I?"

Carlotta laughed quietly, and pulled a few thick, twisted strands of her hair between her fingers to fidget with. "I'm afraid you are. But I'm so…" She held her breath for a moment, wondering if she should say it—wondering if he would look at her differently afterwards. "After all you've done for me, I cannot resist developing a terrifyingly strong… _fondness_ for you, Jack. You took me in when you didn't have to, and you've taught me a new way of living, in which I don't have to be afraid, and in which I can simply live happily without regret. But that fear is something too hard to shake so quickly, and… honestly, I think I'm so accustomed to it, that as it slowly passes, I fear the absence of it." She stared fixedly at the floorboards of Jack's cabin. "It's strange to feel such comfort in life. I've never felt this settled before. I have you to thank for all of it, and yet… I fear it."

"So, you're tellin' me that you fear not feeling fear?"

She did not answer. Instead, she waited for him to say something else, anything to take the focus off of her so she did not need to repeat herself. Why had she started this? Why had she opened her mouth and allowed such protected emotions to break loose from her? She hadn't meant for this to happen. Would Jack ever accept her into his life entirely? Would he ever settle for her? Could he ever see past his blinding lust, and love her as a person? Could he ever have the courage to love her, or would he forever be a stubborn loner at sea for all eternity, with no woman to love him forever at his side? She shut her eyes tightly to cut short her dramatic thoughts that were making her head ache. Jack said nothing for several long, painful moments of pregnant silence. Then a shadow passed over her closed eyelids, and they fluttered open. Jack's musty old boots were right in her line of vision, hardly an inch from her own feet. She looked up just as warm, strong arms fell around her, and scooped her into a tender embrace. Her cheek was comfortable against the white linen shirt on Jack's muscular chest, and she could feel his heartbeat pulsing beneath it. It calmed her. She sighed.

"Listen," Jack said at last in a low rumble, "You should not fear me, and you should not fear my closeness. I'm not going to hurt you. You're too bloody weak. That'd be no fun at all."

A chuckle escaped her throat, and the involuntary smile stretching across her face felt wonderful. "Thank you, Jack." How was he able to do this? No matter how lascivious and vile and insensitive the man was, he was always able to cheer her somehow, to make her feel things she didn't know she could. She inhaled his musky, masculine scent. After all this time, the intense and overwhelming smell of dirt and sweat and rum did not affect her the way it used to when they'd first met. Her hands slinked around his waist, and she clung almost greedily to him, as though to a security blanket. He let out a low groan, and she looked up at him. "Are you alright?" she questioned quietly, surprise filling her as she caught sight of the pained expression on his face. He pulled away from her slightly, one arm still around her as his other hand flew to his abdomen.

"I'm fine, woman," he said dismissively, "I'm fine." She glared quizzically at him, disbelieving that he was fine. He was massaging his side as though it were hurting him, and she shook her head at him.

"Are you certain?" she asked, knowing he wasn't. "You don't appear to be as fine as you say, Captain."

He waved her off, removing his arm from around her shoulders at last. "Leave me alone, wench," he snapped, so her heart sank at his sudden coldness. He scratched an itch on his shaking hand, and she noticed there was sweat shining there. His brow was coated in it.

"Jack, you're all clammy," she said determinedly, reaching a hand up to feel his forehead, but he swatted her away again.

"Why don't you and your damned maternal instincts ever just leave me be?"

She shrugged. "It's just the way I am," she sighed.

"Well, I'll be fine," he growled, bending forward slightly as though this would assuage some of his discomfort. "I'll be immortal soon enough, so there's no need to worry so bleedin' much." He started away from her, but with a sudden rise of boldness inside her, fueled by Jack's recent kindness and the encounter they'd shared, she reached out and caught his muscled arm in her light, fragile grasp.

He turned his head to look at her in blatant irritation, but he said nothing. "Wait," she said in a high-pitched, worried tone. "You're saying you know there's something wrong with you, but you're just going to ignore it until you reach the Fountain of Youth?"

A smile twisted across his lips. "Well done," he said, still clutching his abdomen. "And that really should be fairly soon since we've sped up to avoid dear Mrs. _Turner_."

She held her tongue, trying desperately not to implore him about the stupidity of immortality. "So… you've figured out the directions, have you?"

"Oh, gettin' there was never the problem," Jack told her mysteriously. "Neither is gettin' back. The map shows where it is, but its real purpose is to explain how to survive once we find it."

Carlotta gulped anxiously, feeling an unusual tightness in her throat and jaw make swallowing painful. Ignoring this, she asked, "You _have_ figured out how, then, haven't you? We'll be alright, won't we?"

He smiled slyly, his chillingly dark eyes searching her face, making her insides burn for him. "It's cryptic, but don' be afraid," he told her in a low husky tone. "I'll take care o' ye." Her heart soared, and she seemed unable to control the stupid grin suddenly overpowering her expression as he turned to leave again. She watched him go feeling sweet warmth flare in her heart as she watched him swagger flamboyantly to the door. One of his hands was still placed worryingly at the pain in his side he was doing his very best to ignore. She shook her head, biting her lip and glaring at the door as it fell shut behind him. What a foolish man he was, but oh, she was fond of him. She admired him greatly; indeed, she fancied him. She wanted him as she had never wanted another—as she had never been allowed to want another! And here he was, sudden and sweet but unwilling to accept her heart, she was sure of it. Willing to use her body, maybe, but her heart? That seemed doubtful. Still, in all honestly, she did not care. She loved her time with him. She loved serving him, and that was enough for her, even if she could not make him love her. Love… who was she to talk of love? She'd never been in love, but this—this madness—could surely_ not_ be love.

Sighing, she followed his path across his cabin, and exited after him, wondering just how close they really were to finally accessing Jack's beloved Fountain of Youth.

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**A/N:** For the billionth time, I haven't proof read this chapter yet, so if you spot any mistakes, please let me know! Thanks!!

Again, I'm SO SORRY this took me so long. I pray the next one won't take QUITE as long as this one did, but... I really can't promise that. All I can promise you is that this story is NOT over, and I'm NOT giving up on it. If you have the willpower to hang on to it, then good for you, but I TOTALLY understand if you wanna stop reading it because it's taking so long.

Anyway, thanks for reading, my sweets!! I hope you enjoyed it!


	18. Fog

**A/N:** Um... wow. I have like no words for how long it's been since I've even LOOKED at this story. So sorry to anyone who actually remembered and missed this stupid story, and thank you for being patient. It's been like... almost two years. Dear god. Time sure flies, don't it? And wow, a lot's happened since then. In addition to me realizing how crappy this story is, since I last updated I also fell in love, became a Sophomore in college, declared my painting major, and have procured four tattoos. Time is funny that way. And now I'm almost 20, and still a crappy writer.

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Upon stepping foot outside of Jack's cabin, Carlotta discovered it was no longer raining. The sky was still a dark navy however, and wispy purple clouds were crowding it, giving the atmosphere a lingering chill. Her boots squeaked and slid slightly on the damp, slippery wood panels of the deck. A crewman nearly ran her over as she made her way into the open. She watched him pass a little cautiously before she followed his path towards the helm where Jack had already taken his place.

As she came up beside the captain, she glanced at him awkwardly, trying to repress the violent surge of desire that swelled in her heart at the sight of him. He was staring determinedly into the distance, his eyes narrowed and his lips moving as though he were whispering to himself, but Carlotta could not hear him over the roar of the sea crashing around the base of the ship. "Jack?" she asked. He swung his head around, making his long tangled locks whipped about him. "Er… forgive me, but… how exactly do you mean to keep us alive when we find the Fountain?"

"Tha's for me t' worry 'bout, lassie," Jack replied unconcernedly.

"Jack," she piped up again just as he turned back to the horizon, "please. I want to know. It affects me, too. It affects us all. Tell me what you read on that map."

Jack groaned in annoyance. When he glanced back at her, he had on a very sour expression. "It's… cryptic," he snapped.

"Are you saying you don't know how we're supposed to survive?"

He did not look at her, but stared back at the tiny landmass ahead that Carlotta supposed was their destination. She squinted at it as well, but the small glint of sunlight left in the sky was glaring and difficult to avoid in her line of vision. She looked at her feet instead. "I said nothing of the sort," Jack said defensively without looking at her either. "I just said the stupid, bloody charts were cryptic, alright?"

"Alright," she cooed apologetically, still observing her boots. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry."

"Ponce de Leon had it all wrong, see. He made it to the cave where the Fountain is hidden, and 'e drank from it, but 'e did it all wrong. One cannot merely take a simple drink from a mystical fountain of eternal life, as he did. 'E wound up trapped within the cave by the Fountain's alleged guardian, and went mad with hunger. An' sure as I'm standin' 'ere, the Fountain's power did not work for 'im. 'E was unprepared and rash, an' 'e paid the price, the poor decayed ol' bugger. To drink from the Fountain without a certain… product of great value would be purely suicidal. But_ I_…" Carlotta looked up at Jack as the sudden pride in his tone caught her attention. "I happen to posses what is needed to make the Fountain work."

"Oh?" Carlotta felt sweat gathering in the lines of her clenched palms, despite the crisp chill of the sea air after the brief storm. "What is it that is needed for it to work?"

Jack smiled mysteriously, his beetle black eyes dancing as they reflected the sun quite like the mirroring surface of the dark sea on which they sailed.

"You won't tell me?" she asked. "Don't you trust me?"

"Can't trust no one, darlin'," Jack told her warningly. Carlotta sighed, thinking of Elizabeth Turner. She wondered if Jack's ability to trust had been damaged before that woman's betrayal, or if it had been primarily her doing. She wished suddenly that she knew more about Jack, more about his past and his family, but she didn't think now was exactly the best time to inquire him on the subject.

She screwed up her nose. "Fine," she mumbled. She sat on the deck by Jack's feet, squinting out at the colorful horizon line. The setting sun was like a bright fire dancing in the sky, spitting red flames throughout the sky as though it were alive. Carlotta breathed in the crisp twilight air and tried to feel calm, but now that she was living here on this ship with this mad Captain, calm was a hard emotion to reach. It had felt simpler in the earlier days with him, but those days had been replaced with these full of conflicting emotions and fear of impending doom.

But as she breathed in deeply, and closed her eyes to the glow of the sunset, she allowed herself a moment of sweet rest. She was at peace for a minute.

A few minutes passed like that with her eyes gently closed as she listened to the slow creak of the wheel over her head and the crashing waves below the ship. But before long, just as the tiniest glimmer of sun had finally gone, the air started to grow thick. She opened her eyes. The glittering stretch of sea ahead of them had become hazy. They were drifting into sudden fog. "Foggy night, I s'pose," she said, pushing herself to her feet again. She started to walk off, to take a stroll about the deck, but a whisper stopped her after just a few steps. She paused, and turned to look at Jack again. He hadn't moved, and was not looking at her. "Jack?" she asked slowly.

"Hm?"

"Did you say something?"

He looked at her with eyes that seemed concerned for her sanity. "'Course not, darlin'. Why?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I just… thought I heard…" She shook her head and started off again, but again, she heard that whisper. She was certain it was her name, and the voice sounded so eerily familiar and close to her heart. She spun around more wildly this time to see the whisperer. This time, Jack seemed a bit phased, too. He was batting something from his face, though there was nothing there. "Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice clearly on edge.

"I certainly 'eard somethin'," he said warily, "but it weren't no whisper."

"What was it, then?"

"I keeps hearin'… singin'…"

Carlotta swallowed hard. "That… is odd, Jack."

He gave her a look wrenched with sarcasm. "No… really?"

"I just mean…" She rolled her eyes, and sifted her weight from one hip to the other, looking awkward. "Should I worry?"

Jack was looking paranoid, his eyes flitting all around him as though searching for the source of the music in his head. "I'm not sure," he said, his voice low and concerned. That was enough for Carlotta, and worry flooded her instantly. The fog was growing thicker.

Right on cue, a man screamed from the front of the ship. Jack ran towards the fallen deckhand, and Carlotta followed. The man was writhing, clawing at his greasy scalp and moaning persistently, crying and screaming as though someone were beating him. But there was no one to be seen. It was as though he'd gone mad. "What's happened to 'im?" Jack roared.

"No idea!" Gibbs cried, throwing his hands up. "'E just keeled o'er and started screamin' fer 'is mother!"

Jack started fussing, and Carlotta stopped listening. That voice had returned. She looked at all the men around her for some indication of where that damned voice was coming from, but none of them were speaking to her. One of the men was muttering to himself, and another was humming while rocking back and forth, but the rest were silent as they watched Jack and Gibbs bother about the man crying on the deck. "What?" she asked the disembodied whisperer. She stumbled away from the huddled mass, gazing about her for the source. "What? Who are you?"

"Carlotta," the voice said. "No perteneces aquí."

"What?" she said a little louder now. "What are you talking about?" The voice was definitely male, and so familiar.

The voice rumbled in her chest like a part of her. "Vuelva a casa, mi bebe," it urged. "You belong with me, with us, with your family, Carlotta, not with these scoundrels."

"No!" Carlotta shrieked. She knelt and hugged her knees, her eyes shut tight to block out the voice that was only getting louder.

"Venga, Carlotta. Venga. Vuelva a casa conmigo.."

"No! No, no, no!" Her eyes were stinging.

"¡Vuelves a casa ahora, la ramera! ¿Piensas que consigues una elección en el asunto? ¿Piensas como quiera cómos vives su vida, ahora? ¡No es! ¡Nunca fue! ¡Fue siempre hasta mí porque siempre contestará a mí, tu pedazo sin valor de mierda!"

She started to cry. That voice was paining her. She could feel her organs ripping apart inside. Her head was throbbing. "¡Cállese, papa! Por favor! Please, shut up! Shut _up_! Go away!" The world seemed alive with colors, yet also dead and so strangely far away. She could not place a finger on any of her emotions. Everything felt distant and scrambled, not the way it should be. "What… is going on?" she muttered.

Jack was hanging onto the wheel again, his face determined as his lips moved rapidly, speaking to no one. His eyes were mad. Mr. Gibbs had collapsed beside the other fallen deckhand and was sobbing into a dirty handkerchief. Other shipmates had started to beat on each other. Fights had broken out every which way, and if she could remember how to feel anything, she would have felt fear and gone someplace where she might not get trampled.

But the world was spinning. It was swirling out of control, too far for her to catch it and cling to reality a little bit longer. She could not remember where she was. "Carlotta," the voice called again, and she looked about wildly for its speaker.

"Papa?" she yelled, tears now coming in waves. "Papa! Please, leave me alone!"

Colors burst before her eyelids when she shut them again. Nothing made sense.

"Carla!" That was not her father's voice. Jack? She wasn't sure she remembered how to say his name. "Carla, m'dear! We're almos' there!" The roar just barely registered with her. As she searched around in the night again, she could not make out Jack's face through all the fog. It was so thick that she could barely see her boots when she looked down. "Almost… there..." Jack's sweet call rumbled again.

"Where… here…?" Carlotta just barely forced the words out of her mouth before her throat closed up. Wiping the sweat out of her eyes, she fell to her knees, gasping for breath. "Jack?"

She could hear the great thunder of the landing even over the rush of blood in her ears. The whole ship shuddered around her, and as though she were experiencing a climax of sorts, Carlotta shuddered with it, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry for how rushed it was, but when you have a chapter sitting in your head for nearly two years and don't do anything about it, when you finally write it, you just want it kinda to be... over. So I rushed through it. I'm sorry. But I promise I'll do my best to finish this damn story between all my schoolwork.

Also, sorry for the crappy Spanish. If anyone feels the need to correct my Spanish, they're welcome, but this is basically what was said in that large chunk of Spanish there:

"You come home now, bitch! You think you get a choice in the matter? You think it's up to you how you live your life, now? It's not! It never was! It was always up to me because you will always answer to me, you insolate piece of nothing!" ....Yup. Peace out.


	19. This Place

**A/N:** Ha. Told you I wouldn't give up. Sorry for the crap cliffhanger. BURP.  
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The ground was trying to throw her into the air, tilting and wobbling all over the place. The world seemed to have lost all its solidity and she was surely floating, spinning amongst a whirl of colors. A groan escaped her lips. She blinked several times, helping the face looming above her come into focus against the black sky behind it. Jack's lovely, shaggy head was recognizable even while he was still a bit blurry. She sat up a little, feeling woozy. She never really fainted much until she met Jack. At this point she was almost used to this hazy waking up feeling she always seemed to get afterwards. "Jack?" she said vaguely. Her voice sounded so far away.

"Sh, don't worry, love," Jack said in a strained tone. He was clutching his side, and his expression was one of pain and frustration.

"Are you alright, Captain?"

"You are ridiculous, lassie," he scoffed. "I should be askin' ye that question, not th' other way 'round." He smiled, and she couldn't help but smile with him, even though his was more of a grimace. "Now," he said, standing up and extending his hand to her, "on yer feet, milady." She took his hand and was pulled upright. As she righted herself, she noticed the whispering still in her head, though it was much fainter now.

She shut her eyes and clutched his hand tightly to her. "I can still hear him!" she cried. "What is going on, Jack? Make it stop!"

"'Fraid I can't do that, Carla, m'dear." He looked solemn. "We've found it."

Carlotta took a glance around, still holding his hand as though it were precious and would keep her safe. There were other unconscious figures strewn across the sandy earth. Some were sitting in fetal position, fully conscious but terrified. They were on a beach—a long, empty beach with a nearby forest that was shadowy and foreboding, its trees' branches hanging and gnarled like great arms reaching for them, luring and also warning them. "This is the place?" Her voice was quiet and trembled a little.

"Sure is," he confirmed with a shaky nod.

She looked around at their comrades again. "Y'know, Jack, this doesn't look like everyone here." She glanced back at him. His eyes seemed for a moment more sunken than usual.

"Jumpers," he snapped. "Couldn't 'andle the madness. Funny how I manage it every day o' me life." He grinned that golden and yellow-toothed grin of his, and Carlotta laughed awkwardly. Her heart sunk deep in her chest. Some of their shipmates had thrown themselves overboard to escape the maddening voices. She could hardly imagine what else was in store for them on this island.

As though he was reading her mind, Jack cleared his throat. "Oh, missy Carla, there are so many more things here that'll be far worse than that maddening fog, I expect. And in fact, I look forward to the challenge."

She shook her head at him urgently, a surge of fear suddenly pumping through her hot veins. "You're mad!"

His eyes twinkled at her. "So I've 'eard, love. So I've 'eard."

A shadow flitted by someplace in the corner of her eye. She jumped closer to her Captain. "Jack," she whispered. "I think I saw something." She pointed in the direction the shape had slithered by, but he seemed lost in his own world, suddenly. Jack was looking at the sky with a look of apprehension. "What is it, Jack?"

He shook his head, then suddenly his hand away from her and began swatting at something around his head that she could not see. Had he finally lost it?

Just as she reached out to him and was about to ask him what was going on, she felt an eerie tickle on her arm. She scratched it without looking, and felt something crawling along her skin. She looked down, and saw several red ants inching along her forearm. She screamed, and brushed them away quickly. She did a stupid sort of jig out of sheer horror, feeling like her skin was bubbling with disgust. Someone around them screamed, too. He was shouting, "Help me! Oh god, please help me! No, don't! Please don't hurt me! Leave me alone, please! Just leave me alone!" It was horrible. When she looked around for the shouter, however, she saw no one. The other shipmates had disappeared. It was just her and Jack.

She let out a yell of anguish. "Jack!" Her voice was high-pitched but extremely shaky. "Where did they go?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, batting away some invisible creature from near his head. "What are you talking about?" His focus then wandered off into the air again, swatting at nothing and looking perplexed. He started to walk away from her.

"Jack! Don't go!" She walked after him.

She followed him into the woodsy area nearby, feeling light headed. As unreal as her time with Jack Sparrow had seemed, nothing had ever felt as surreal as this past hour. Fog that made her hear voices in her head, and at the moment she wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't: those ants, how quickly the shipmates disappeared, Jack's behavior—even odder than usual. She felt so disconnected. "Jack!" she called, but he did not look at her. When he suddenly stopped walking, she was able to catch up to him. She stopped at his side and rested her hands on her knees, bending to catch her breath. They were in a clearing, she realized when she looked around. "Jack," she said. "Jack?" He was not looking at her. He was muttering to himself. "Jack, can you hear me?" She waved a hand in front of her Captain's face, hut his black shining eyes were glossed over and unfocused. He did not even flinch. "Jack!" she cried. "Can't you hear me? Please!" She was starting to really panic now. "Why can't you hear me?!"

"Carlotta." Her heart stopped for a second as the voice echoed around her. She spun around, and saw a man standing in the shadows.

"What—who's there?" she called. Her entire body was in tremors of fear. As she took a step closer, the silhouette vanished. She turned back to Jack, only to discover with a pang of disbelief and horror that he was gone. She was all alone. She could only see trees every which way she looked, and there seemed to be no way out. She couldn't even remember which way they'd come from. Every tree looked the same to her, and the stars looked so uniform she wasn't sure she could recognize any to lead her anywhere. She felt so lost and so alone, every vein in her felt on fire. Every heartbeat hurt her ribs and was deafening in the surrounding silence. "Jack?" she whispered in her meekest little squeak of a voice. She was so afraid, she could have fainted again, but this time she held herself up.

Another uncomfortable tickle on her arm again made her heart jump. Looking down, she saw those damn ants again. She squealed and leapt into the air, brushing them off. But there were more—hundreds more, climbing up her legs onto her torso as though she were their anthill. She started to scream, her skin burning as they bit through her clothes and gnawed at her. She ran as fast as she could, trying to shake off the ants that were eating her alive. Fear was burning in her throat as she screamed at the ants, screamed to the dark, empty wood for these ants to get off of her! "Get off!" she screeched. "_Please_!" As she ran, her foot snagged on a root and she tumbled forward with a painful yelp. Her face hit the earth and her cheek scratched. Her palms were raw and red from trying to catch the fall. The ants were in her hair, under her clothes. She could not take it any more, pushed herself up a little— and wretched in the dirt. Tears were pouring down her face, and her stomach was turning so thoroughly she didn't think she'd ever stop throwing up. She vomited again, and cried a bit more as some ants reached her face. "PLEASE!" she shouted. "STOP!"

And to her great surprise, the ants vanished. They just disappeared, as though they had never been there. She lifted herself onto her shaking knees and looked down at herself, wiping sick from her chin and tears from her cheeks. There were no rips in her clothing, no more uncomfortable crawling sensations on her scalp or anywhere else on her body. She was alone again.

Not for long, though. Another shadowy figure crossed her vision. "Hello?" she called to it, glancing around for where it might have gone. "Is someone there? Jack?" A spooky wind made the dead branches around her sway and creak, and she shivered, holding herself tightly. The dark figure stood hauntingly beyond some trees, staring at her. Well, she assumed he was staring at her, but she could not be sure because she could not see his face. "Hello?" she called again. She got up slowly, all her limbs feeling like they were not attached to her torso. Everything felt light. She started to move towards the figure, and as she did she felt a tap on her shoulder. Her heart jumped into her throat, she leapt into the air, and spun around as fast as she could, coming face to face with the man who haunted her past. His wide bloodshot eyes were gleaming right in her face, and that old familiar smell hit her for the first time since she'd finally left him. She screamed and tried to run away, but he appeared in front of her again out of thin air, staring and smiling that disgusting smile she feared so much.

She tried to back away slowly, but she tripped and found herself on the hard ground again. "Leave me alone," she whispered. "You can't be real. This is a hallucination. It must be. Jack said…"

"What did that little good-for-nothing lay about say to you, eh, girl?" He started to advance towards her, and she cowered.

"He… he…"

"He what? You stupid girl! So afraid you can barely speak! So afraid of everything! You are worthless! So pathetic and frightful, I never knew what to do with you, growing up! And what have you become? Nothing more than just what you always were!"

Carlotta let out a single great sob, and looked up, right into that big ugly face. Even as she watched, he transformed. He collapsed, his face melting, decaying and rotting right in front of her. She put a hand to her mouth in horror as he completely changed and became a dead body with a familiar face. She tilted her head a little, trying to recognize that horribly disfigured body.

With a terrible jolt, she realized it, and almost threw up again. The dead form of her mother lay before her, wide eyes staring straight at her. She couldn't take it anymore. She stood up, and ran. She ran as fast as was possible on her wobbly legs, and she didn't stop. Trees flew by her like tall dark blurs, and some branches nicked her as she ran. Her injured shoulder was searing. She needed to find Jack. They needed to get away from this place—this _horrible_ place—and get back onto the _Pearl_ and onto the waters Jack loved so much. Lord only knew where Jack was, or the rest of the crew for that matter! Where was Gibbs? Where had everyone gone? And where was _she_?

A single glance over her shoulder caused a collision. She hit something hard, but not like a tree. It was a human body, and as she smashed into it, the two of them went rolling to the ground.

She panted heavily on the stained yellowing shirt in her face, catching the scent of rum and sweat with every deep inhale she took. She knew that smell.

"Jack!" she cried happily. She had never been so happy to see him as she lay there on top of him hugging him like there was no tomorrow. "Jack! I was so scared! Why did you leave me? This place… it's no good! I can't be here! No one ever should! We must go!"

"Sh, be calm now, Carlotta, dear." He held her close.

"Carlotta? You… called me Carlotta." She looked up at his face, giving his tear-stained chest a break. To her great surprise, Jack touched her face with a gentleness she didn't know those rough fingers had. His callous, ringed thumbs stroked away a tear from her bleeding cheek. She smiled weakly. "What happened to you? Where did you go, Jack? And where is everyone else? We need to find them." She started to get up, but he stopped her with a hand around her small, dirty wrist. "What is it?" she asked. Their eyes were connected. She felt so strangely grounded when she looked into those eyes, feeling like she'd just lived through a nightmare and just woke up to find the man she...

Was that her first thought? Really? So happy to see him again, her heart felt inflated and her eyes felt ready to burst with tears of pure joy. It felt like love. But knowing who he was, when she tried hard to remember the way things were before this place. It seemed so long ago after all this horror, even though it had only been probably 30 minutes or less.

But right now, she didn't care. Maybe she did love him. What did it matter as long as she could be free and feel like her own independent person in Captain Jack Sparrow's crew? What did her feelings for him matter, really?

He still had not looked away or pushed her off of him. In fact, he was tugging her closer, and she felt something hard against her hips as she pressed near. Her cheeks went bright red. God, that face of his—there had never been anything more beautiful, of that she felt certain. His body against hers was making every inch of her sweat. But it was such a relief, such an amazing feeling to not be absolutely terrified. The contrast between this and that horror was intense, and she was surprised at how relaxed she felt in the situation at hand. Jack's hands were roaming downward toward her backside, and she did not stop him. She was so happy, so elated in this moment that she took her chance and leaned closer to his face.

And oh! He completed the space between them! He did it for her so she didn't have to, as though he'd read her mind! And goodness, his mouth was so warm! She didn't think anything could ever be so warm or so soft, despite how rotten his teeth were and how strongly his breath smelled of rum. He still felt beautiful to her, and his tongue still made her sigh with ecstasy. What could she do? She was helpless. She had given in, and she loved it. This is what it must feel like to be a free human being. This is what it must feel like to really be happy. Now she knew.

He rolled her over, and she let him. She was crushed into the dirt under his weight, and she could hardly get enough of the feeling of having him on top of her. Why had she waited so long to give in to his advances? _Why_?

Quite suddenly, with no warning, he pulled back. His face went cold, his hand reached out of sight, and with a gesture so quick she never saw him do it, brought a dagger to her throat. It glistened in the dark, and she did not dare even to swallow beneath its threat. The tragic fear returned, and she was hopeless. Stunned and helpless, Carlotta did not know what to do. This surely, she thought, must be what it feels like to have one's heart broken.


End file.
